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Thursday, May 3, 2007

sometimes

It speaks to me in the dead of the night
So many empty glasses greet me
Ash tray full
The story, can you tell my life?

I hear it. And I hear you.

There's nothing left to say
We have to fix these insipid holes
we've tried desperately to fill
with what we've wanted.

It's not enough to hold onto.

The emptiness enfolds us
and the night grows longer
still, being so far away
brings us closer.

Sometimes...
Penned by: at
Label Me: ,

3 comments:

*that girl* said...

i love this... you really capture a feeling of loss, and bittersweet regret..

i like your style kid.

May 3, 2007 at 11:11 AM
Anonymous said...

this depressed the fuck outta me. dammit. well, that's the sign of a job well done, i certainly felt the mood of this piece. sheesh.

i need a fucking drink.

love you babe.

May 7, 2007 at 2:15 PM
Unknown said...

I liked the quiet sadness. For all that it is quiet, it's not despair. There's hope, but it's fragile like spun glass. Great piece!

November 26, 2007 at 11:00 PM

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