wasureru

Rockin' the sympathy vote.

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salinger

You know, this story's really bogus and all, I mean, the wolf really didn't eat me, it ate a few sheep like all wolves do but do you really think I'm gonna just stand around and let some goddamn wolf run up and eat me for chrissakes? That'd be like running in front of some goddamn train yelling "Hit me! Hit me!" like some goddamn moron. I mean, who's dumb enough to just stand there and let some wolf run by and take a big bite of him? It'd take a real moron to just stand there and wait for a bunch of people to save him from the wolf when he could just climb some goddamn tree. Anyway, like I was saying, the wolf really didn't eat me, I mean,

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locked

You ask to understand me (repay those days, those years, walking the same path, of differing opinions) to know how I think, what I believe, to know me as me, not me as Erik. (Inside to outside, wear your purpose as a skin rather than your lies as a shell, the deception directed inwards as much as to the world.) To crawl beneath the skin (caress the veins in passing, a velvet touch to fire the blood while drawing all the iron from my spine) find all those secrets buried beneath the walls of flesh so deep, they fuse with the marrow (secrets and skeletons) and become life unto themselves (as we adapt, model our lives as

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locked by wasureru, literature

Literature

locked

You ask to understand me (repay those days, those years, walking the same path, of differing opinions) to know how I think, what I believe, to know me as me, not me as Erik. (Inside to outside, wear your purpose as a skin rather than your lies as a shell, the deception directed inwards as much as to the world.) To crawl beneath the skin (caress the veins in passing, a velvet touch to fire the blood while drawing all the iron from my spine) find all those secrets buried beneath the walls of flesh so deep, they fuse with the marrow (secrets and skeletons) and become life unto themselves (as we adapt, model our lives as

tomorrow by wasureru, literature

Literature

tomorrow

Wrap my heart around 'goodbye', (while saying to you, 'forever') pawn that diamond ring I bought, back when I was still in love, (ignorant, my hands across my eyes) before I learned to listen to what was really there, not just the lip synch, (darkness from a open door, eyes blinded, that's not my name) to what your heart said, in it's routine beat, (whereas mine, skittering, stopping, turns to iron) that steadily, never wavering, passes by.

Wish by wasureru, literature

Literature

Wish

Each year, the little boy prayed that among his gifts (model cars and aeroplanes, books and clothes, those Hallmark cards, with a cheque enclosed, sent by distant, awkward relatives, he had never met) he would find a single small box, wrapped in black silk, bound by a silver ribbon, that, when opened, would contain neither jewels nor fantasies, (though a dragon was tempting) but an emptiness, into which he could put all his memories (once, he wished to be rid of only the bad, but perfection is only seen through it's shadow) and start again, another life, as another person, free from the corrosion that toxic life inflict

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