Blonde

Ah, you crazy hypocrite,

I can tell by the way you look at him,

You know there’s nothing more obvious,

then you pretending to listen to him,

Not hearing a word he says

What’s on your mind, I wonder?

Some pondering unrelated to nothing,

Nothing of the sort you care to tell,

You wishing he’d say something else,

Instead of the things he says

Oh, you crazy hypocrite,

Come on, girl, try and listen,

Or just speak your mind and be done with it,

He isn’t going to know till you do,

You don’t want this to go to waste

But now you’re staring off into space,

Too nervous to do what you know you have to,

Oh honey, you’ll end up such a train wreck,

You sure you’re ready for the sleepless nights?

Come on, girl, just tell him…

Why does it seem like the most special people in our lives always leave so fast?
I miss each and every moment that I spent in their arms, hearing their voices speak and whisper in my ear, always bringing me the greatest of joys, that I can feel content and complete.
Yet it never lasts.
I try to hold on with all my might to every tiny piece of them that I can lay my hands on, wishing I could simply hold on to them and never let go.

If I close my eyes, when I am alone, I can feel you with me, touching me, telling me I am not alone.
Who would run with me? Who would pick me up and shelter me from the rain, stay with me when I am at my worst? Who would make sense of this life that does not seem right?

Well Enough Alone - Chevelle

Here's some musical entertainment by a long-time favorite of mine, Chevelle. I'm still working on something to write about.

Memoria
Waking up every morning,
against my will, against my body,
trudging down a road that never ends,
used to be so much easier,
when I would wake every morning,
knowing you would be there

Within this empty shell of a life,
within this endless walk in the dark,
and with all this meaningless meandering,
all of it never seemed to matter,
I would have walked though hell,
knowing you were in my life

Now no matter how bright,
the sun chooses to shine,
the darkness simply will not lift,
except for those little moments,
those gentle, precious moments,
when memory brings you back to me

Dedicated to Rhys Johns, and all those who have lost loved ones...

The Fire

Am I so different,

From the man standing next to me?

With the pale skin and the blue eyes,

Am I so different?

That we cannot speak of it,

That I cannot see through his eyes

Does it make him hate me?

For being so different from what he is,

For not fitting in with the familiar,

Does it make him shun me?

By not letting me in,

By casting me out upon the fire

The fire that burns my dark skin,

Are the flames that fuel my spirit,

Your hatred is only disguised fear,

For underneath burning flesh and skin,

Lies the truth that will condemn,

That I bleed the same as you do…