Memoirs of a psychopath 1
By diavolessa
ndo avro finito io perche non tu(J.F.K)
Everyone look!
Leave me alone in the tender bath of reminiscences, in the night and the
silver of the moon that soothes hair of unknown women. Let me kick dreams
and amputate faith. Mistakes, sins, wrongs…
Loosing love! A lil wrinkle shows up under the eyes, when causes do not
exist. I would like to strangle the sky, hold my breath onto the pillow
where “he” once rested his head. Pieces of an imaginary world. Storms
that whirlpool in my room, the fascinated looks of your reminiscences.
I was going to write you a song. An unbelievable song, an unheard song,
a big song, with great lights that turn on and off and runaway lies. White
sheets, white doors, faces… God I hate white!
(I’m not telling the song)
In the very end, the eyes of the city cried as I kept on talking about
you. I do not know if it was happiness, or pain, or sadness, being repeated
in a vicious monotonous circle, or replicating the same story over and
over again, gave this feeling the word LOVE. I still feel it with me, when
the rain touches upon the skin, when I feel the sent of a melancholic autumn
day. In the corridors forgotten jealousies, black spots of unrealized love
run wild. The great chest of pessimism, the wonders of incurable memories,
the inhuman conditions of leaving. All of them, all in you. Dreaming of
breathing instead of being a tear in an April table.
I do not have you anymore…or I never had you. No more illusions, no more
altars of promises left in vain, words of silence…
I am left without you, without what I wanted, without what I dreamed, without
what I had… My head bangs on the beat. A rush of screams under the wind
jerks the road that brings me toward you. I am brittle as the hands of
a baby, like the transparent of the eternal “unpossession”, like the
darkness of a full moon.
Now my scared life is grasped on reminiscences of the unnamed, my involuntary
deeds sum up in writing some letters, till the day the rainbow will shine
in the Sahara.
I dared. I jumped. I fell. My body broke in pain, gabs hanged under my
eyes, clouds where I lay untouched. Tears that escape, weird eyes that
offer melodies of an angel. I am waiting to fall in love with a false love,
which can take this frown for long stamped in my face and turn it into
unending smile. But there is no false love. There is no true love either.
There is an infinite time of search, connection of words like these that
do not mean anything, but see to be unbelievably beautiful.
Comments on "Memoirs of a psychopath 1"
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On Thursday, March 27, 2003, Jonas
(715) wrote:
at least so far (and this will probably hold) this is my absolute favourite... you pour the glistening truths of love and long gone down the road into a twisting city of poetical goodness
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On Friday, March 14, 2003, Six-Out
(1423) wrote:
Nice, I like, and I think you should post the second part also. Keep it up. Later.
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On Friday, March 14, 2003, maddin foxxxy
(358) wrote:
loved the last line...love may be an ilution...but it sure is a beautiful lie to believe!...waiting for the other part