}
Thursday, January 27, 2005
uninspired
Too stressed, too migraine-induced to even lash out what I feel. I tried writing something. A verse? Can't. I absolutely hate it when nothing comes out. But I need to communicate something. I need to relate something. So let me revive a poem I wrote years ago, because it perfectly tells of what is being felt. And because poetry transcends time.
PURE
So this is pure
this is how it feels.
The frantic beating of
veins,
tired, but reeking havoc.
Especially through the
head.
Everything is taken over
taken completely.
Eyes roll, voices
raised.
How this yearns to scream;
longs to show the reality
of what
this spirit feels.
Pure.
So this is how pure it feels.
Anger.

dezphaire strapped in @ 6:02 PM  

0 Comments:

<< Home

My Photo
Name:
Location: Philippines

Sometimes bored. Most of the time oddly alive. Phobic of butterflies. Creatively suppressed. Hungry for coffee and shoes. This is my subconscious talking... at times interrupted by my reality.

previous stabs
top of the shelf
the closet
shop around
my shoebox
poetry & lit
reklamadorang ako
launch station
www.flickr.com
This is a Flickr badge showing public photos from dezphaire. Make your own badge here.
tag me

soundtrack of the moment
Jealousy, turning saints into the sea. Swimming through sick lullabies, choking on your alibis. But it's just the price to pay, Destiny is calling me. Open up my eager eyes 'cause I'm Mr. Brightside -- "Mr. Brightside" The Killers
notice
All words, verses and art are copyrighted to me unless otherwise specified. Authorization and reference required for any form of reproduction or use. Much thanks for your respect and support.
Thanks to ImageShack for Free Image Hosting
Kukote Meets The Beauties
fashion dress up games

Powered by Blogger