Eighteen Percent Grey

i am

your fucking puppet.

how ohsofun.

you ripped my heart out and made meat cubes out of it.

you made me play russian roulette and i pulled the trigger on a loaded chamber.

oh no, you don't know half the things you're doing to me.

and if you do, you're a heartless prick.

i'm not playing anymore of your stupid mind games.

tomorrow. that's the last day.

that will be the last time.

<3

be still my bleeding heart. we shall hurt no more.

---

look darling

(i dont know when i started getting this whole "darling" thing. it is irritating. i rather detest calling people names like darling and honey and baby and whatnot. but it has somehow grown into me and i am now calling everybody darling. which annoys me. you get my point.)

(but of course i'm not referring to just "anybody" this time. i'm referring to you.)

things won't work out this way. i mean - okay - i can go around proclaiming my undying love for you. i can write you 50,000 words telling you why you mean what you do to me. i can compose 5000 songs, i can make 20,000 rhyming verses, i can spin a million stories, i can record 10,00 dreams

and you're still not going to know that you are who you are

(or as i've said previously - you know and you're just playing dumb - which is totally and perfectly fine by me - because honestly i don't know if you're the person i want to love)

i can go out on a limb for you and throw away my pride and give you all my time and let my emotions rise and ebb with yours

i can make a fool out of myself. i can act stupid to entertain you. i can hang onto your every word. i can give you all my attention and make you feel like you're the coolest being to ever walk the earth. i can boost your ego, i can let you think you're important

yes, i can do all that.

but

things aren't going to work out.

i've been through this before, a long time ago. with you, with other people. i've liked you as more than a friend for almost about a year.

stupid as i may be when it comes to you - i know when i should stop.

maybe one day i'll tell you that i loved you, and i loved you fiercely (i always love fiercely as a principle) and you were once my everything - maybe one day we'll laugh over this over coffee. or alcohol. choose your poison.

maybe we'll meet when we're much older, then you and i can have a laugh at the expense of my childish desires.

oh i'll tell you.

one day

when i finally learn to stop loving fiercely.

outcast

that's what i am.

I'm not crazy, I'm just a little unwell
I know right now you can't tell
But stay awhile and maybe then you'll see
A different side of me
I'm not crazy, I'm just a little impaired
I know right now you don't care
But soon enough you're gonna think of me
And how I used to be
Me

I am not being corny. this is how i feel.

darling dummy

oh how easily i forget

sometimes one has to work the brakes and stop before it's too late

not many people like open books

such a dummy such a dummy

time to erect a brick wall

(acute brick wall! hahahaha forgive me the partition between the medical side of my brain and the normal side of my brain has now become more permeable and leaky)

cannot la cannot

i am a mashed mixture of clashing personalities now. i feel boring but i think i'm still intersting. i love COLOURS! but i like blackandwhite stuff too (that in my opinion is the biggest contradiction ever)

AIYAH WHATEVER LA.

being sequestered at home with no contact with the outside world is impairing my already dysfunctional social skills.

I DONT KNOW WHAT IM WRITING.

(anyway i think i like being this way la i guess. it's much easier for me to come up with really random stuff now that my head is in the clouds most of the time... i've always been too attached to the ground to come up with really fun abstract stuff! whee)

Never too late for lessons

I am going to.. er... learn something new today.

I am going to learn to be apathetic.

Song for you. Swimming.

Found myself just the other day
In the backyard of a friend's place,
Thinkin' about you,
Thinkin' of the crowd you're in,
What you up too where you've been?
(Just thinkin')

And all the clothes that you wear,
And the color in your hair
Shouldn't change you
Now you tell me why it's so
You bigger than mighty Joe,
(At least you think so)

God my fingers burn,
Now when I think of touching your hair
You have changed so much that I don't know,
If I can call you and tell you I care
And I would love to bring you down,
Plant your feet back on the ground

Throw my smoke down on the ground,
Turn my head and I heard the sound,
(That reminded me)
Of the days so young and sweet
Always so much fun to meet
(At least I thought so)

Now you think you're so damn fine

You can rule the world no not mine,
I don't think so

God my fingers burn,
Now when I think of touching your hair
You have changed so much that I don't know,
If I can call you and tell you I care

Now the scene that you're in,
And the people that you been with
Just get to me,
But you think I'm not as cool,
As you are so beautiful
Well who you fooling?

Well I'm here to tell you babe
The game you're in is just a game
So damn pretentious

God my fingers burn,
Now when I think of touching your hair
You have changed so much that I don't know,
If I can call you and tell you I care
And I would love to bring you down,
Plant your feet back on the ground

You think you're so beautiful
(So beautiful)

- So Beautiful, Pete Murray

This is what I want to say, exactly.

---

On a more serious note, I am being forced to grow up. Not growing up isn't an option. As of tomorrow, I will have been pushed into the very real, dreary, stressed-filled, worrisome life of a bloody adult.

I don't want to grow up and I am very, very afraid.

I am going to do it on my own as well.

Well, sink or swim, sink or swim. You never fail to learn how to swim when you're pushed into the ocean and you have to fight for your life.

Sink or swim.

I know how to swim.

The Puppetmaster

He carves her lovingly
From a piece of wood
He picked out in the trash

It would be his masterpiece
Every stroke of the knife
Would bring him closer to perfection
He took his time

It was done
He carved a small hole on the puppet
Where the heart would've been
He slashed his finger and let a drop of blood fall

Her magnificent beauty
her enchanting lifeless stare
He was hypnotised
He kept his knife away
Forever

He didn't dare tie the strings to her
She was so beautiful
He didn't want to hurt her
He felt her pain now

He ignored all the other puppets
He threw them all away
He only had eyes for her
She was his, and he was hers

Some time passed
Her lifeless stare gone cold
And where he thought he once could see love
Were only two glass beads, feelingless

He tried to get her back
He tied her, he choked her
He carved his name on her
She stared back at him, cold and lifeless

He loved her
Why did this happen
He hung her up

He took out his knife
He went to the trash
He picked up a piece of wood

He sat down and started carving
Every stroke of his knife
Brought him closer to perfection

The Moth

A solitary flame
Sitting in a dark room
Silence broken
By the fluttering of the wings
Of a solitary moth

Dead bodies
Disembodied wings
Around the candle
Reminders of paths wrong trodden

The moth approaches
Blinded by the corpses
All it can think of is the flame
Entrancing
Enchanting

Why is it hot
Why am I falling
Where are my wings
Why do I smell burning flesh?

The flame is getting further and further away

A Magick Spell for Memories

The sharpest shards of glass
Broken from mirrors
Which once held the promise
Of a thousand broken dreams

Silver strands of time
Woven carefully
This is main ingredient

The glass
Grinded
Crumbles into powder
Like small diamonds
Contains the glimmer of stars

Time
As the fabric
The canvas on which the glass sticks
Each shimmer
Cries out with disappointment
Each scream piercing

Each shimmer
Contains a story
No words can ever tell

It takes months
Years
For Real Memories to form

Hastened weavings
Produce nothing
But the lifeless, blinding reflection of Light
Which is empty

Real Memories
Tarnish, just like silver does

But it doesn't matter
Every speck of glass
Is brilliantly stained with the colours of the rainbow

Colours of happiness
Colours of anguish
Colours of pain

Every Memory is unique
They all sing a song
A haunting song

A song which only the owner can hear

Does she?

Poison
Sweet yet toxic
Calling to her
From within the crystal bottle

It calls out
Its voice haunting
Its scent nectaric
Glowing
With the promise of lies and deception

She reaches out
Takes a step nearer

She holds the bottle in her hand
Fascinated
Already intoxicated

She removes the stopper

A kitten died...

A kitten died
Everytime I thought of you
A kitten died
And you never even knew

It was struggling
Mewing
Weeping
Begging for mercy

I didn't hear
I was busy

I was holding its head under the water
I was strangling it
Breaking its bones

It kicked and scratched
Hissed and bit

There were scars
Scars of desperation?
Like how I felt
When I thought of you?

I pushed its head a little deeper
I strangled it a little harder
Broke its bones into smaller pieces

Frail
Adorable
Epitome of innocence
Everything good

It died

A kitten died
Everytime I thought of you

And now there are no more left.