It's why they call it "heartwrenching"

Because everytime I think about it, I feel a squeeze to the one organ that keeps blood pounding through my veins. The one organ that symbolizes the emotional happenings of every moment of the past - speaking of which,

"Moments of the past, come back to find us, not to relive them - just to remind us."

I'm sorry if this is frazzled, if this doesn't make any sense, if the grammar and syntax and punctuation and organization is painfully incorrect, because it makes no difference to me. All that matters is to keep you in my memory.

If you think that everything is gone, that I have retrogressed into a malicious being who has forgotten all that she had ever learned, you are incorrect.

Disillusionment is a funny thing, in a cynical kind of way. You would think that after I had studied disillusionment as the backbone of my english career in the past year, I would learn about the ways to avoid coming across whatever may lie within its depths. An example?


"Come, you spirits

That tend on mortal thoughts, unsex me here,

And fill me from the crown to the toe top-full

Of direst cruelty. Make thick my blood.

Stop up the access and passage to remorse..."
Lady Macbeth (I, v)


What exactly is she talking about? Turn me into the most vile of men. I do not want to be a woman carrying the burden of emotion; guilt must act as a mere aftertaste in comparison to the thirst that bewitches me...

She wants what she wants. She'll get what she wants. And she is not afraid to hurt others in the process of doing so. Selfish, perhaps it was. The point of this excerpt is Lady Macbeth trying to make herself seem tougher than she is. It seems as though she succeeds, after carrying out the murderous plot that nobody knew she was even capable of pursuing.

The point is, in Act V, scene v, a scream is heard from within the castle. She's killed herself.

Disillusionment is a funny thing, in a cynical kind of way...
It hit me hard. But the old me is here to stay.

Truth Dies; Denial Lives

In truth, in physicality, she sees
Clearly the familiarity
Of her escape from reality...

Dripping in denial's grotesque truth
Converging in on her soul.
And why she goes towards, rather than away from it-

Well that,
Even she,
Is not capable of explaining.

---

But darling, don't fear-
For nature has a plan near

Your loves, your loss
Envelop life's every cost...

Don't worry, though!
For a fool gives into his hearts woes.

Close your eyes, remember then,
He will be with you till the end.

Your Telltale Heart

Your heart is simply telltale to me.
Its rhythmic, disjointed beating
Never ceases
To pound behind my ears.

Because upon every exhale
I taste the bitter scorching of what once was.
And upon every inhale
I taste the fragrance of

"What if"
"Perhaps"
And
"What could have been"...

Your heart pulses and pounds
As if it wants to escape
Beat to the rhythm of its own drum.
But alas

It unwillingly beats to mine
As it holds its breath
Too afraid to smell the aroma
Of what it cannot have.

Because of me it will never taste the fragrance
of "What if"
"Perhaps" and
"What could have been"...

The Firsts.

I love to write.

Problem is, I barely ever do it anymore. I decided it would be a good idea to make a blog to post all of the lyrics I like, rants I can't rant, and miscellaneous poetry that comes to my mind at 4:00 in the morning.

I also like to look at various forms of art, so I might post pictures and things that I enjoy as well. =)

Besides the fact that I probably won't get any viewers besides Vicky, if you see something you like, or have any advice, feel free to comment.

*Also, unless otherwise specified, I do not own any of these photos.*