Post by Sparks on Mar 19, 2005 17:06:20 GMT -8
I am pretty much in a really sad mood. This is all that I can come up with, and I don't even know where it came from. :/
Have fun reading it at least.
The elevator doors are closing and my heart is racing like a freight train,
(There is a young boy tied to the tracks and he is looking death in its milky eye)
and I can’t help it. I should have learned to control myself by now but it seems so trivial all of a sudden. All I can think of is
(There is a burning handprint scarred on my wrist, searing in my flesh, and I am melting away like hot wax) your wrinkled forehead, and that division of concern between your eyebrows.
My body is tense even though nobody is around. I catch myself wishing that I had just slept through the morning. This is subconscious control. If I ran to the window I would probably see you leaving the building and sliding into your taxi cab, shutting the door and thumping your hand against the side of the car as you took off. You might look back, let your eyes scan the windows to see if my face is there, but I don’t want to find out.
I couldn’t take it if
(Everything’s going to be all right, all right)
you didn’t.
Maybe I’m not being realistic, standing here with my arms glued to my sides, my eyes resting on the crack between the doors, like they will open and you will step out.
Maybe there is a way around this anguish, but I doubt I will be the one to find it. You were always better.
(You are singing me to sleep, but I want to stay awake. Our bodies are molded together and now that there is a reason, I don’t want to let it go. A Neil-Young-esque ballad is quiet in the room, filtering through the radio that you forgot to turn off. This is where I want to be, where I want to be, where I want to be. Your arms are like a cage – your skin hot and perspiring. This is the only thing that matters)
Can we cut the curtains? Can we lock the doors and black the lights? Can we walk into the grey alley for a smoke, and ponder the play that never was? The actors are unqualified and overpaid.
The elevator doors are still shut. They are still stainless steel and I am still standing here. Maybe we aren't real.
(I am frozen – time is clicking its heels in the corner of the room. You can taste it. I can see it in your eyes. They’re looking down and with our foreheads pressed against each other, we have come upon the end of the world. We breathe together and I can't help but think how delicate you seem.)
A tiny cry escapes my vocal chords.
It is the law of cause and effect. But oh – you knew it all along.
The sheen of my forehead and the distraught dullness in my eyes are clues. The trembling and the feeling of melting skin. They could lead you if you would let them. But that was never the intention. I’m sorry. I’d do it all again.
(Je t’aime. I will never let you go. If this doesn’t matter to you now then it never really did. We are close to being one. But if we ever came too close then we would be alone all over again. It's a threat – to be so intimate. It is spelling danger, and with your arms around me, I know that this is as close as God will let us get. With our skin pressed hard against each other, I can make myself cry. You are all I want)
The memory is running over my cheekbones and I am running to the elevator, slamming my fist against the down-arrow, and my mouth is still opened as I dig my fingernails into the crack between the doors, because the words unsaid are choking me to death.
The worst decision that I’ve ever made has your eyes and your voice, and your miserable frown.
Down, down, down. Show me something, please. Don’t let it end like this
(The park is cool and you are holding my hands. You kiss my cheek. As we draw each other into a tender embrace, you smell like something that I never want to forget)
because I’m not ready for it to be over.
We are too young to have the ability to influence each others’ lives like this. We are crippled by our own fear of injustice.
(You surround me. With my head buried in your unclothed shoulder, I inhale the warmth and the comfort. I am trying to hold onto you but with every fall of my eyelashes, and with every sweet half-smile that you offer me, we are getting farther apart. The closer we get, the more separate we really are. This exposure will surely save us all)
I sink against the wall and flatten my palms against the elevator doors.
They symbolize the only thing that I ever really threw away
Because it is the only thing I ever really had.
I hear a car engine start far below – the noise drifts in through the opened window.
(We step apart.)
(I pull my head away from your chest.)
(The park is empty. There is time to tell you everything that I feel, but I won't, because there will be years to make it all clear. There will be other days like this)
these words will remain unspoken
(If I’m never back again, I promise that I will love you forever.)
(You run your hand lightly down the side of my face. Have we really made it this far on our own? Or is this another lie that we have fallen for? I pull you close because you are the only thing in the world that I need. I would die for you.)
I can’t breathe. I can feel the pressure in my chest and all the things I never held, sifting between my fingers, like sand. There is an answer but you breathe and we all disappear. A haunted book, dying in the fire – an unnamed story with a catastrophic ending.
Twenty-three days ago you asked me if this was the end of the world.
(Please don’t forget me.)
Have fun reading it at least.
The elevator doors are closing and my heart is racing like a freight train,
(There is a young boy tied to the tracks and he is looking death in its milky eye)
and I can’t help it. I should have learned to control myself by now but it seems so trivial all of a sudden. All I can think of is
(There is a burning handprint scarred on my wrist, searing in my flesh, and I am melting away like hot wax) your wrinkled forehead, and that division of concern between your eyebrows.
My body is tense even though nobody is around. I catch myself wishing that I had just slept through the morning. This is subconscious control. If I ran to the window I would probably see you leaving the building and sliding into your taxi cab, shutting the door and thumping your hand against the side of the car as you took off. You might look back, let your eyes scan the windows to see if my face is there, but I don’t want to find out.
I couldn’t take it if
(Everything’s going to be all right, all right)
you didn’t.
Maybe I’m not being realistic, standing here with my arms glued to my sides, my eyes resting on the crack between the doors, like they will open and you will step out.
Maybe there is a way around this anguish, but I doubt I will be the one to find it. You were always better.
(You are singing me to sleep, but I want to stay awake. Our bodies are molded together and now that there is a reason, I don’t want to let it go. A Neil-Young-esque ballad is quiet in the room, filtering through the radio that you forgot to turn off. This is where I want to be, where I want to be, where I want to be. Your arms are like a cage – your skin hot and perspiring. This is the only thing that matters)
Can we cut the curtains? Can we lock the doors and black the lights? Can we walk into the grey alley for a smoke, and ponder the play that never was? The actors are unqualified and overpaid.
The elevator doors are still shut. They are still stainless steel and I am still standing here. Maybe we aren't real.
(I am frozen – time is clicking its heels in the corner of the room. You can taste it. I can see it in your eyes. They’re looking down and with our foreheads pressed against each other, we have come upon the end of the world. We breathe together and I can't help but think how delicate you seem.)
A tiny cry escapes my vocal chords.
It is the law of cause and effect. But oh – you knew it all along.
The sheen of my forehead and the distraught dullness in my eyes are clues. The trembling and the feeling of melting skin. They could lead you if you would let them. But that was never the intention. I’m sorry. I’d do it all again.
(Je t’aime. I will never let you go. If this doesn’t matter to you now then it never really did. We are close to being one. But if we ever came too close then we would be alone all over again. It's a threat – to be so intimate. It is spelling danger, and with your arms around me, I know that this is as close as God will let us get. With our skin pressed hard against each other, I can make myself cry. You are all I want)
The memory is running over my cheekbones and I am running to the elevator, slamming my fist against the down-arrow, and my mouth is still opened as I dig my fingernails into the crack between the doors, because the words unsaid are choking me to death.
The worst decision that I’ve ever made has your eyes and your voice, and your miserable frown.
Down, down, down. Show me something, please. Don’t let it end like this
(The park is cool and you are holding my hands. You kiss my cheek. As we draw each other into a tender embrace, you smell like something that I never want to forget)
because I’m not ready for it to be over.
We are too young to have the ability to influence each others’ lives like this. We are crippled by our own fear of injustice.
(You surround me. With my head buried in your unclothed shoulder, I inhale the warmth and the comfort. I am trying to hold onto you but with every fall of my eyelashes, and with every sweet half-smile that you offer me, we are getting farther apart. The closer we get, the more separate we really are. This exposure will surely save us all)
I sink against the wall and flatten my palms against the elevator doors.
They symbolize the only thing that I ever really threw away
Because it is the only thing I ever really had.
I hear a car engine start far below – the noise drifts in through the opened window.
(We step apart.)
(I pull my head away from your chest.)
(The park is empty. There is time to tell you everything that I feel, but I won't, because there will be years to make it all clear. There will be other days like this)
these words will remain unspoken
(If I’m never back again, I promise that I will love you forever.)
(You run your hand lightly down the side of my face. Have we really made it this far on our own? Or is this another lie that we have fallen for? I pull you close because you are the only thing in the world that I need. I would die for you.)
I can’t breathe. I can feel the pressure in my chest and all the things I never held, sifting between my fingers, like sand. There is an answer but you breathe and we all disappear. A haunted book, dying in the fire – an unnamed story with a catastrophic ending.
Twenty-three days ago you asked me if this was the end of the world.
(Please don’t forget me.)
