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Thursday, March 16, 2006

Tears and Rain

(With thanks to James Blunt for his words.)

How I wish I could surrender my soul;
Shed the clothes that become my skin;
See the liar that burns within my needing.
How I wish I’d chosen darkness from cold.
How I wish I had screamed out loud,
Instead I’ve found no meaning.

From hypocricy to desperate angst bred from boredom and emptiness.  It’s all the same.

Pretense.

Needing, always needing, but without a voice to share.  Opening hearts and heads and lives to new meaning and new choices, but always stuck in a closed box, hiding away in a small comfortable shell where skin and soul went numb and the darkness became the only truth.

I guess it’s time I run far, far away; find comfort in pain,
All pleasure’s the same: it just keeps me from trouble.
Hides my true shape, like Dorian Gray.
I’ve heard what they say, but I’m not here for trouble.
It’s more than just words: it’s just tears and rain.

Because, of course, you can’t lose what you haven’t got.  The comfort in pain is absolute and sincere. 

Truth in its darkest form.

At that depth, the beast’s black, bleak lies feel real and substantial, something to cling to - a reason - as twisted as it may be.

Purity lost. 
Hold the face. 
Hold the pose. 
Don’t let the lip quiver. 
Don’t let a single fragment of voice shake. 
Keep the facade.

Pretense.

How I wish I could walk through the doors of my mind;
Hold memory close at hand,
Help me understand the years.
How I wish I could choose between Heaven and Hell.
How I wish I would save my soul.
I’m so cold from fear.

And the lies and the lives and the shattered scattered shards of who and what was shimmer on the landscape.

Too many doors, too many rooms, too many places and far, far too many people, more even still in my mind than in perceived reality, if that’s even possible.

There’s no middle ground.  All or nothing.  Hot or cold.  Up or down.

Pergatory is just a myth.

Earth is just a passing breath of a moment.

There are only extremes and the yo-yo between gets tangled in the middle so often that it’s easy to forget.

Up or down?

I guess it’s time I run far, far away; find comfort in pain,
All pleasure’s the same: it just keeps me from trouble.
Hides my true shape, like Dorian Gray.
I’ve heard what they say, but I’m not here for trouble.
Far, far away; find comfort in pain.
All pleasure’s the same: it just keeps me from trouble.
It’s more than just words: it’s just tears and rain.

Hold steady.  Hold firm.  Believe.  This is not a painting.  This is a story, but I own it.  Some things can’t be controlled, but the camera view is mine.

Personalize stationary not situations.  My sins are mine, but the reactions of others are theirs. 

True shape is beautiful and less fragile than one might think.  Hold to that.  Hold to truth.

Cast away the drowning depths and the heedy heights. 

Cast away the desperation and the excessive elation.

Find a place that isn’t numb nor lies.

Learn to dance for the joy of the dance.

Own the tears… and the rain.  Own the pleasure and the pain.

Find truth.

Posted by Liberty on 03/16 at 03:02 AM
Posted under: See-Through

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