Can you grip a heart to save a soul? Dancing forever to change my reluctance. I am reckless and destroying, changing the fight. This ticking moment betrays my patience, banning me from the desolation I wish to repair. Along a solitary path I wage war against myself, retreating the beast and pouring wind ripped heat onto the wounds in my flesh. I’ve lost the days of rest, which broke the weary chains that pulled me deep into a sea of clouded black. I’ve wandered around the truth, avoiding its sting to my prideful flaws. I indulge my weaknesses, giving to them the means to survive; the means to pull me further beneath the cold touch of regret. I’ve wept and screamed. I know the way to destroy this but I have yet to fire the shot. The heated metal could fly from my gun, ripping through the heart of those who oppress me, but my wavering hand tells of the fear I am made of. Where would I find the courage to squeeze the trigger? I can’t continue with my solitude. I need the change. A walk in awakening towards a melting of impurities may be a start to continuance. These moments will revive in me a passion that has escaped my hand. Don’t watch me crash into fiery disruption; I won’t survive without your words, your embrace, your breath, your touch.
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Hold Sight
Can you grip a heart to save a soul? Dancing forever to change my reluctance. I am reckless and destroying, changing the fight. This ticking moment betrays my patience, banning me from the desolation I wish to repair. Along a solitary path I wage war against myself, retreating the beast and pouring wind ripped heat onto the wounds in my flesh. I’ve lost the days of rest, which broke the weary chains that pulled me deep into a sea of clouded black. I’ve wandered around the truth, avoiding its sting to my prideful flaws. I indulge my weaknesses, giving to them the means to survive; the means to pull me further beneath the cold touch of regret. I’ve wept and screamed. I know the way to destroy this but I have yet to fire the shot. The heated metal could fly from my gun, ripping through the heart of those who oppress me, but my wavering hand tells of the fear I am made of. Where would I find the courage to squeeze the trigger? I can’t continue with my solitude. I need the change. A walk in awakening towards a melting of impurities may be a start to continuance. These moments will revive in me a passion that has escaped my hand. Don’t watch me crash into fiery disruption; I won’t survive without your words, your embrace, your breath, your touch.
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4 comments:
This reminds me of my "Internal Inferno" thing.
I also love the picture.
But! I love it, simply for all the metaphors/double meanings.
I love those.
You should Guild it. Though, we have been a bit dead lately.
i dont want to guild this cause i want whats on the guild to be different from what is on my blog. i wrote this more for my blog than something in the guild... though i do have something big that im going to post soon.
I totally understand that.
:]
I am a huge fan of how you write your prose pieces. It tumbles unto itself almost, but not in a hurried way, if that makes any sense. Again, the word choice is superb.
In particular, my favorite part was "The heated metal could fly from my gun, ripping through the heart of those who oppress me," if only for the powerful implications behind. Amazing work, Sam :D
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