there are so few of you left, that I am reluctant to even address the issue of reading this

[mynewplace]

However out of respect for you I will. Don't read it. You know how I can get, murderous rage coupled with abyssimal pain. It DOES feel better to get it onto screen!paper. heh And there comes a point in time when you decide to bare your soul and damn the consequences. So just don't read it. 'K?

 

I am my beloved's, but my beloved is no longer mine.

I am a mere possession of that master, to deal with as he sees fit.

I have accepted the fate I have been dealt, though not willingly. I do not go gentle into that night, for it is not good. I go furious, enraged, incredulous at the insult of watching minions remain while I am set aside, firmly, silently, permanently. I scream and vomit and shred my own decency in my grief and anguish as I am crushed to a million bits, only to pull myself to my knees, toss my hair back, and be crushed again. And again once more. I hate this muscle within my chest as it continues to constrict, clutching at a life I find repulsive, pushing with every beat against the walls that rebuild themselves around it, sludge stiffening to mortar. Pain is stronger than blood and seems to squeeze the muscle in agonizing slowness. Would that the collapse were quick, complete. Gasping provides little oxygen until the brain forces the lungs to accept it against their better judgement. Lashes at half-mast not from lust now but an inability to cope, a reluctance to accept the sight of a world which continues - such a fucking cliche’.

A possession I remain, another trinket for a deity who carries them in a multitude of trunks dedicated to eons of experiences garnered when life is lived on the edge to the fullest at 110 miles an hour for years on end. No soul resides within me, for it lies buried under sapphires and chains, mounds of peaches and rope, a blinking neon IHOP sign, reams of paper with concepts incomprehensible to all but two, music that seduces movement in vein and hips and mind, with words that induce painful memory.

What more in the name of love?

If only you believed like I believe

You’re so won’erfully . . . . pretty
Oh you know that I’d do anything for you

but more than any other

I’ll give you everything I’m capable of, and then some

 

Comments

[phaballa.livejournal.com]

Sad :(

*hugs* Here is a quote from Mrs. Dalloway to empathize (because I'm not that great with my own words, and everything always comes back to Woolf ;):

"It was her life, and bending her head over the hall table, she bowed beneath the influence, felt blessed and purified, saying to herself, as she took up the pad with the telephone message on it, how moments like this are buds on the tree of life, flowers of darkness they are, she thought (as if some lovely rose had blossomed for her eyes only); not for a moment did she believe in God; but all the more, she thought, taking up the pad, must one repay in daily life to servants, yes, to dogs and canaries, above all to Richard her husband, who was the foundation of it--of the gay sounds, of the green lights, of the cook even whistling...one must pay back from this secret deposit of exquisite moments" (Woolf, 29).

[sapphirescarlet.livejournal.com]

*hugs* thank you. No one has ever quoted Woolf to me before. I feel somehow more literary simply from the association. I am deeply moved.

[slytherinsheirx.livejournal.com]

makes me think of a wounded animal... it's mortally wounded but can only writhe while it dies, subjected to unimaginable torment before it dies.
Makes me think you are sort of in limbo. Unending pain. Torment.


the bit about your soul... true...

linking it in with those memorable moments...

they have taken over you and devoured you, leaving you with nothing but painful memories.

Sorry... babbling on....

*hugs and kisses dearie*

[nemecic.livejournal.com]

I think this song (TWIST by NIN) unfortunately describes all this...

well you've got me working so hard lately
working my hands until they bleed
if i was twice the (wo)man i could be
i'd still be half of what you need
still you lead me and i follow
the small of your back up to your chin
over to the tip of your switchblade
as you pull it out as you stick it in

well you just leave me nailed here
hanging like jesus on this cross
i'm just dying for your sins
and aiding to the cause

wrap my soul in bandages
i'm tired of this war
go ahead and cut me
i can't even feel it anymore

...and this (FRAGILE by NIN) is what I dedicate to you...

she shines
in a world of ugliness
she matters
when everything is meaningless

fragile
she doesn't see her beauty
she tries to get away
sometimes
it's just that nothing seems worth saving
i can't watch her slip away

i wont let you fall apart
i wont let you fall apart
i wont let you fall apart
i wont let you fall apart

she reads the minds of all the people as they pass her by
hoping someone can see
if i could fix myself i'd - uh..
but it's too late for me

i wont let you fall apart
i wont let you fall apart
i wont let you fall apart
i wont let you fall apart

we'll find the perfect place to go
where we can run and hide
i'll build a wall and we can
keep them on the other side
...but they keep picking and picking
...and picking...

it's something i have to do
(i won't let you fall apart)
i was there, too
(i won't let you fall apart)
before everything else
(i won't let you fall apart)
i was like you
(i won't let you fall apart)


Love you honey,
Valia

[sapphirescarlet.livejournal.com]

I love you so much. Is it a sign that I'm still sick because I see him in TWIST as much as I see myself?

[nemecic.livejournal.com]

No dearie, because in order for a human being to be like this, he must have gone through the same (or at least a similar) hell. The thing is though, what you do afterwards. Do you subject to others the ordeals you went through and perpetuate this never ending cycle, or not?

Kisses
Nem