Post by whitepepper on Feb 7, 2005 8:50:25 GMT 6
This is an article I got from a Nepali site.
Your best imaginary friend
-Blackeggsalad
Against the voices I've been plowing through my barren fields. Caressed my narcissism, admiring my eyes. I've tried to find a soul that wasn't lost and found a punishment for living life composed of sentiments and grand, triumphant, sacred deaths. I do not know another way to look at friends - to hold a moment, in my hands of timeless warmth, to look into another tortured eye or long for heat below her clothes. I dip this world in lyrical white ribbons spinning holy elegance and form - is that my final death-bed ultimate mistake? How beautiful I find the nights spent in magnificent torment! It was this very freeing pain, that threw me in a blur of love, and in this pain, my innocence and reasoning dissolved.
And now we separate. Now we're ourselves. Now that we're looking at the ceiling, I don't love you. Now, I don't know what love is; there is only me and my endless day dreams - my crooked, guilty, feverish fantasies that are tied with every muscle to a blue bubble varicose vein of obsessed, paranoid, obscure fears. I knew, of course, it was going to be this exact way. I knew we would either be slowly closing an unfinished book or opening a blank one. Every page is as empty as the air in these moments soaked in mindless sheets rapidly losing their heat. I wanted to warn you that the amazing freedom of having me inside was not going to last for the rest of our lives, and that this love you feel is nothing but needle thin hunger eating at your mind, lusting for supernatural passion. You must know, at times I am impossible to love. I promise I will toy with your self esteem to feed my insecurities and I will do a lot to damage your vision, making you forget what freedom is. Before all of that breaks our fiery circle of truly gentle human emotions, let me go from your mind so filled with gloomy sorrows. I always want to be an unsolvable puzzle, continuously changing according to the person who is trying to figure me out, but against the voices I've been plowing through my barren fields.
Your best imaginary friend
-Blackeggsalad
Against the voices I've been plowing through my barren fields. Caressed my narcissism, admiring my eyes. I've tried to find a soul that wasn't lost and found a punishment for living life composed of sentiments and grand, triumphant, sacred deaths. I do not know another way to look at friends - to hold a moment, in my hands of timeless warmth, to look into another tortured eye or long for heat below her clothes. I dip this world in lyrical white ribbons spinning holy elegance and form - is that my final death-bed ultimate mistake? How beautiful I find the nights spent in magnificent torment! It was this very freeing pain, that threw me in a blur of love, and in this pain, my innocence and reasoning dissolved.
And now we separate. Now we're ourselves. Now that we're looking at the ceiling, I don't love you. Now, I don't know what love is; there is only me and my endless day dreams - my crooked, guilty, feverish fantasies that are tied with every muscle to a blue bubble varicose vein of obsessed, paranoid, obscure fears. I knew, of course, it was going to be this exact way. I knew we would either be slowly closing an unfinished book or opening a blank one. Every page is as empty as the air in these moments soaked in mindless sheets rapidly losing their heat. I wanted to warn you that the amazing freedom of having me inside was not going to last for the rest of our lives, and that this love you feel is nothing but needle thin hunger eating at your mind, lusting for supernatural passion. You must know, at times I am impossible to love. I promise I will toy with your self esteem to feed my insecurities and I will do a lot to damage your vision, making you forget what freedom is. Before all of that breaks our fiery circle of truly gentle human emotions, let me go from your mind so filled with gloomy sorrows. I always want to be an unsolvable puzzle, continuously changing according to the person who is trying to figure me out, but against the voices I've been plowing through my barren fields.