Chapter 4 - I have the urge to write + Afterbirth.doc
Submitted June 18, 2008 Updated July 12, 2008 Status Incomplete | Catchy isn't it? ^^
Category:
Miscellaneous » Writing |
Chapter 4 - I have the urge to write + Afterbirth.doc
Chapter 4 - I have the urge to write + Afterbirth.doc
This is not one of the most happy-written stuff ever ^^"
I have the urge to write,
already made the final sentence. Now I’m just filling the space in between. Lose misery story? Plain story? Feelings, boredom, headaches, sleepless nights, hatred filled eyes. So many things I could write about.
Every day I wake up from a dream where everything is spotless, the girl I want, little things, joy, fame. You name it, I dream it.
The girl I want. The last two or three weeks, every single night. She wanders in, say the perfect sentence in a perfect situation.
And wham! The radio sends me back into reality, some afterdreaming and I am awake.
Last couple of days I keep on saying to myself: “Say it, that you love her.” Oh, she knows. But all I’m getting are questions. I want some clear answers, some revelation.
In the dark I gaze.
Reaching for what can only be thoughts.
Through the fog I seek.
Don’t know whether to go left or straight.
“I keep a close watch on this heart of mine.”
God, just some clear answers. But before I can get those, I’ll need to ask.
The playing of the shadows.
Silhouettes dancing.
Image after image, animated thoughts.
Too big to miss.
Too blurry for detail.
This vague guessing of me makes me wreckige.
I’m so special I need my own words to describe my feelings.
The silver bends make me wonder: “How can it be so bright, after all those strange ways?” My eyes hurt, I can see spots really clear now.
I’m catching them with my lashes.
The noise of the light annoys.
I get distracted, fractured.
Shattered here I lay.
I know your sweet lips,
I wanted to continue, but I just can’t. Thinking of her blocks my common sense. I’m squeezing my pillow some more.
I’m lonely, realised.
I’ve messed up, realised.
I can’t get a second chance, but I need it so.
I want it, just one little chance.
I’m sweating and a major headache is coming up.
Looking back, I really got the urge to write.
With a plotted ending.
Afterbirth.
You know what frustrates me?
I keep on hugging my pillow, my sheets, myself.
It annoys me so for doing it.
I then realise I need someone to share these thoughts with, with whom I can have contact with.
Senne, I need you.
Writing her name drains me.
I need some aspirin.
I have the urge to write,
already made the final sentence. Now I’m just filling the space in between. Lose misery story? Plain story? Feelings, boredom, headaches, sleepless nights, hatred filled eyes. So many things I could write about.
Every day I wake up from a dream where everything is spotless, the girl I want, little things, joy, fame. You name it, I dream it.
The girl I want. The last two or three weeks, every single night. She wanders in, say the perfect sentence in a perfect situation.
And wham! The radio sends me back into reality, some afterdreaming and I am awake.
Last couple of days I keep on saying to myself: “Say it, that you love her.” Oh, she knows. But all I’m getting are questions. I want some clear answers, some revelation.
In the dark I gaze.
Reaching for what can only be thoughts.
Through the fog I seek.
Don’t know whether to go left or straight.
“I keep a close watch on this heart of mine.”
God, just some clear answers. But before I can get those, I’ll need to ask.
The playing of the shadows.
Silhouettes dancing.
Image after image, animated thoughts.
Too big to miss.
Too blurry for detail.
This vague guessing of me makes me wreckige.
I’m so special I need my own words to describe my feelings.
The silver bends make me wonder: “How can it be so bright, after all those strange ways?” My eyes hurt, I can see spots really clear now.
I’m catching them with my lashes.
The noise of the light annoys.
I get distracted, fractured.
Shattered here I lay.
I know your sweet lips,
I wanted to continue, but I just can’t. Thinking of her blocks my common sense. I’m squeezing my pillow some more.
I’m lonely, realised.
I’ve messed up, realised.
I can’t get a second chance, but I need it so.
I want it, just one little chance.
I’m sweating and a major headache is coming up.
Looking back, I really got the urge to write.
With a plotted ending.
Afterbirth.
You know what frustrates me?
I keep on hugging my pillow, my sheets, myself.
It annoys me so for doing it.
I then realise I need someone to share these thoughts with, with whom I can have contact with.
Senne, I need you.
Writing her name drains me.
I need some aspirin.
Comments
You are not authorized to comment here. Your must be registered and logged in to comment