oh how I long for the deep sleep dreaming
I linger in the doorway
Of alarm clock screaming monsters
Calling my name
Let me stay
Where the wind will whisper to me
Where the raindrops as they're falling tell a story
It's been a bad night. And it's not getting better. And I want, I want, I so want it to get better.
In my field of paper flowers
And candy clouds of lullabies
I lie inside myself for hours
And watch my purple sky fly over me
Heard from a friend that the crypt of my long-lost love has been destroyed, utterly. Not a stone, not a bone remains. In a fit of pique she killed him again, and...I can't even communicate the loss to her in ways she'll understand. She has his new incarnation in her life, not that she'll speak to him...but I don't even have that.
And it's truly not him I wanted, anyway. I wanted the one I lost, the one who died. As long as I had his crypt, it was...not enough, but...it helped. He helped, even as bones and ash.
Now that's gone, never to return, one more place of peace for me...destroyed.
Don't say I'm out of touch
With this rampant chaos, your reality
I know well what lies beyond my sleeping refuge,
The nightmare, I built my own world to escape.
And then came the news of the loss of the demon...
Seems there was a French lady of some uncertain intellect--don't give me that look, I've met her, I can say that--who managed to find a way to undo his existence utterly. It's almost impressive, in a tragic sense--I just sent him back to Hell, from whence he could--and did--return. She erased him.
In my field of paper flowers
And candy clouds of lullabies
I lie inside myself for hours
And watch my purple sky fly over me
And the questions begin.
Why do you care? he asks me. Isn't it easier, having him gone? And oh, how I wish there was a simple 'yes' to that question...
And even now, I don't know. I don't know why it's not a Gosh, what a loss, well, I'm off for tea reaction. I'm still trapped in the horror of it. The horror of losing a face, a form, a...a self, sure, that's part of it...
...but yes. There's...something...left. Tragic and stunted as it's become. I'm...somewhat in mourning.
Swallowed up in the sound of my screaming
Cannot cease for the fear
Of silent nights
Oh how I long for the deep sleep dreaming
The goddess of imaginary light
And then my neko lad and I argued. And what led up to that was...psychotic. I remember...being clasped by passion, body alive and alight, fire-warmed skin pressed to his...and he stopped, he pulled away, he got up and he pulled on clothes and he left.
Just like that.
I don't think I stopped seeing fire for three hours. I'm still angry.
He asked, after I'd staggered to my feet, and shifted, that initial shrugging off of rejected flesh that is my way...if we could meet, somewhere, and talk.
I went to my artist's gallery. I went in alternate succubus guise, burned and burning eyes, red scar markings, red hair, red Kanji staggering across my garments. I went and stood in judgement, and it was a harsh and uncomfortable conversation.
The only resolution was to tell him not to do it again, and to know that now I watch him, now I'm wary of him, and I never wanted that. Never.
In my field of paper flowers
And candy clouds of lullabies
I lie inside myself for hours
And watch my purple sky fly over me...
There were roses growing through the club car. Now they've all burnt away.
Welcome to the train wreck love-life. Again.
(Lyrics are Evanescence's "Imaginary")
Of alarm clock screaming monsters
Calling my name
Let me stay
Where the wind will whisper to me
Where the raindrops as they're falling tell a story
It's been a bad night. And it's not getting better. And I want, I want, I so want it to get better.
In my field of paper flowers
And candy clouds of lullabies
I lie inside myself for hours
And watch my purple sky fly over me
Heard from a friend that the crypt of my long-lost love has been destroyed, utterly. Not a stone, not a bone remains. In a fit of pique she killed him again, and...I can't even communicate the loss to her in ways she'll understand. She has his new incarnation in her life, not that she'll speak to him...but I don't even have that.
And it's truly not him I wanted, anyway. I wanted the one I lost, the one who died. As long as I had his crypt, it was...not enough, but...it helped. He helped, even as bones and ash.
Now that's gone, never to return, one more place of peace for me...destroyed.
Don't say I'm out of touch
With this rampant chaos, your reality
I know well what lies beyond my sleeping refuge,
The nightmare, I built my own world to escape.
And then came the news of the loss of the demon...
Seems there was a French lady of some uncertain intellect--don't give me that look, I've met her, I can say that--who managed to find a way to undo his existence utterly. It's almost impressive, in a tragic sense--I just sent him back to Hell, from whence he could--and did--return. She erased him.
In my field of paper flowers
And candy clouds of lullabies
I lie inside myself for hours
And watch my purple sky fly over me
And the questions begin.
Why do you care? he asks me. Isn't it easier, having him gone? And oh, how I wish there was a simple 'yes' to that question...
And even now, I don't know. I don't know why it's not a Gosh, what a loss, well, I'm off for tea reaction. I'm still trapped in the horror of it. The horror of losing a face, a form, a...a self, sure, that's part of it...
...but yes. There's...something...left. Tragic and stunted as it's become. I'm...somewhat in mourning.
Swallowed up in the sound of my screaming
Cannot cease for the fear
Of silent nights
Oh how I long for the deep sleep dreaming
The goddess of imaginary light
And then my neko lad and I argued. And what led up to that was...psychotic. I remember...being clasped by passion, body alive and alight, fire-warmed skin pressed to his...and he stopped, he pulled away, he got up and he pulled on clothes and he left.
Just like that.
I don't think I stopped seeing fire for three hours. I'm still angry.
He asked, after I'd staggered to my feet, and shifted, that initial shrugging off of rejected flesh that is my way...if we could meet, somewhere, and talk.
I went to my artist's gallery. I went in alternate succubus guise, burned and burning eyes, red scar markings, red hair, red Kanji staggering across my garments. I went and stood in judgement, and it was a harsh and uncomfortable conversation.
The only resolution was to tell him not to do it again, and to know that now I watch him, now I'm wary of him, and I never wanted that. Never.
In my field of paper flowers
And candy clouds of lullabies
I lie inside myself for hours
And watch my purple sky fly over me...
There were roses growing through the club car. Now they've all burnt away.
Welcome to the train wreck love-life. Again.
(Lyrics are Evanescence's "Imaginary")
Comments
"I am a strange loop."
- Douglas Hofstadter.
(hit control c)(twice)
You've met Ryce. This is Ryce. Bastard that I'm thinking he is right now.
The one planning to give me away...currently lives in Valruna, and won't talk to me. So yes, lack of care there, too, I would suppose...
classical music contains more emptiness than even if you took your cam
and went deeper
and saw that every one of these avies
is empty
on the inside.
(I am currently.. caller number.. six... the estimated wait time is... sixteen minutes..)
(thank you for your patience)
hofstadter writes that people are self referential
control-c is the universal break character
there has to be some sequence you will find to completely break apart your avie from feelings and emtions here.
control c works in computer programs.
And I'm not just living in rock, I move through rock, pop, Russian and Japanese artists, country, occasional rap, folk, and alternative. So ppphhhlllbbbbtttt.
Secondly...wau, are you reading a lot into this. Relax.