dolorous interludes.

it certainly is strange how saturdays always are ever so gloomy. i often sit at my computer during this hour, on this very day of the week, looking out at the skies; i see grey clouds gathering together, warning me of my demise. i hate studying like this; all for nothing. the meaninglessness of every geormophological process in my head, nothing more, nothing more. "all of our friends were here, they all have gone home, and i sit on the front porch, watching the drunks stumble into the night... i did not see you there, i thought you would disappear... and this is the chance i never got, to make a move, we just talk about the people we have met in the last five years..." - death cab for cutie. thanks gabs, for the excellent recommendation.

such melancholy isnt good for me.

im drenched in tears of yesteryear, i ask to be understood,and not misunderstood. i ask to be given allowances; i ask to be assured; i ask to be loved.

where is the midnight star of love i yearn for each time night falls upon me? i ask for purity and crystalline truth in my relationship, yet, there is none. i want to feel the raw passions of love and intensity, as diamond love would reflect its prettiness and clarity of beauty, yet, i only grow deaf in its loud absence.

"if love was red then i was colourblind". i doubt myself ever finding this perfect love. dont tell me to rationalise, dont tell me that being an idealist will bring me no one. i dont ask for a perfect someone, i ask for a perfect love, the most perfect that any human being can provide. perfection is when there is grace and utmost will in loving the other.

how can i trust your lustful eyes and be tame in my wild emotions of insecurity when i'v seen only your ravaging need for cheap gratifications? ugh. all men are scum.

posted by voyeur @ 9/06/2003 01:21:00 PM