Empty from caring
Stumbling forward so fast it feels like walking
Day by day
Distance grows from the cliff edge
No fear of falling
Jaw ache from clenching
No tongue holding
Stress fractures manifesting during sleep
Distraction and the closed doors
No windows
Just empty walls
Sitting
Waiting for secret truths
Paths forward bloom
Stark in the emptiness
Bursting with life
But still
Reaching out
Trembling hand
No touches
Last chances
Blown away on the desert wind
Author: Pelgris
Song of the Day
Such an apt song
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Song of the Day: Not what you think edition
I listen to many songs that are arguably very sad and, perhaps, completely depressing. One of my favorite bands is Bella Morte (beautiful death) and they sing almost exclusively about the pain of living and death.
But this, this is the most depressing song I’ve ever heard. Because in my time I have lived and loved and lost. And while losing someone you love for any reason whether it was death, distance, divergent desires, or misconception, hurts; that isn’t the worst pain you can feel.
The worst pain you can feel is hope. Seems crazy but hear me out. Hope can be a wonderful thing. But misplaced hope is destruction. It eats its way through everything you are until you are left riddled with holes filled with pain.
So, the most depressing song, for reals:
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Eating ashes for bread
All that is beautiful is forgery
A false flag waved to rouse
One to false actions
No truth escapes our lips
No hope beats in hearts
All dust and smoke rising from
Ruin
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Song of the Day
Haunting and violent
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Vague wandering
Drunk on memes
Not quite living
Hopes bounce as pinball
around my brain
Stupid brain
Thinking that there is hope
Finding instead
Dirt filled holes of empty
Drug into the muck
Wanting to kiss you
Wanting some way forward
Brain stuck in loving you
Can’t downshift
Forward is all I’ve got
Past is dead chrysanthemums
And empty chrysalis
Life drives forward
Leaving hearts behind
In there uncertainty
Left to make choices that have moved
But still stuck
Some piece of me
Waiting on a maybe
Stuck in this loop
Sadness and recrimination
Bitter pills to swallow
Lies and half truths
Bound by oaths
Spoken and promised
But only I remember
And you
Wait in silence for words I am forbidden to speak
Shackled by an honor
Few understand
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Unbreakable cycles(meant to be sung)
I woke up to your love
But I know, your love is false
I woke up to your kiss
But I know, you’ll be gone in the morn
I woke up in your arms
But I know, you’ll hold me no more
I woke up all alone
And I knew
You’d be laughing
In the dawn
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Last night’s dreaming
I dreamed last night of clubs and restaurants where I found you. A beautiful submissive. Strong, intelligent and defiant. I had no interest in breaking you. Why break a spirit so beautiful? Instead, earn your submission. Strength, respect, joy. Showing you all that I am, accepting your choices. With you in my lap, kissing, I wake.
Only in dreams am I alive.
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Silly tears
I hate feeling sad about things I can’t change. It seems a waste of pain to spend it wondering on what could have been. To spend precious time wallowing and crying. Yet, some nights my mind wanders to those who were but never was. Who said yes, but never touched. It’s impossible to know what could have been and yet my heart dwells on what was in the futile hope of discerning meaning. And in discerning meaning perhaps find a way back there. It’s a foolish heart I have. To hold onto love after the storm of it is past. But perhaps being this foolish person is just who I am. Perhaps, I have never learned to go lightly, and perhaps that’s ok. But it still hurts. I remember them. I remember what I felt. And what I still feel. Me and my foolish heart.
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Nightmares are also dreams: A Pel and Sara story, Interlude 1
The harsh heat pounds down. The light reflects against the sun baked earth and shimmering waves obscure the lines between unreal and reality. The shush of metal sliding into earth and the patter of dirt wars with pants and grunts. The medium build man wearing an undershirt stained with sweat and splotches that looks like crusted blood pauses in his exertion. He looks out across the desert. Here and there can be seen the other holes dug in the earth. The man takes a long drink of water and soon the harsh sounds of metal and dirt again fills the morning air.
The desert wind almost snatches the muttered words of the man, “Fucking Michael, I can’t believe he just up and left without a word.”
No one is there to hear but the coyotes and the crows feasting on treasures pulled from the loose earth.
Pelgris 