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these words are not my own

Contributed by cathartic on Friday, 22nd February 2013 @ 12:22:18 AM in AEST
Topic: oops

If you want the truth, I have nothing to give. I ask for time. Clock after clock hung from the walls; I watch the minute hand supply the hours that take me further away from him. Falling to the ground in agony, I yell for mercy. I force my hands over my ears, the pressure of my palms silence the ticking. I am anxious. Peace is when I drive for miles and busily analyze road signs. I count the distance. I listen to songs I don’t relate to. I stare into the abyss of the night, until I reach a red light. I stay up with four walls and rewind the chaos. I want to tell you that there is nothing. I want to strip myself down to flesh and guide your hands so you can feel the emptiness. I want to open my palms so you can see I have no lines. It is both selfish and unnatural the way that I want you. My passions bend to your words but I hear the clock strike and I feel incapable of giving anything. I want to tell you that I have lost the struggle for something concrete in my array of contradictions. If you want the truth, I want to tell you that whatever you think is here- is gone. But the light turns green.

Copyright Â© cathartic ... [ 2013-02-22 00:22:18]
(Date/Time posted on site)

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Re: these words are not my own (User Rating: 1 )
by ming on Wednesday, 27th February 2013 @ 07:04:10 PM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)

This rambling, as you call it, has a powerful pull. Nice.

ming

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