Last modified Sunday, November 16, 2003
Cleaning off my old computer, I found a time capsule of sorts. In it, writings from my past. I'll share a few here...
Waiting...
What is it I'm waiting for?
Just a simple hello...
Maybe a warm smile,
Before its my time to go...
I stare at grey letters,
Hoping they'll change,
That you'll breathe in these words,
And help my life rearange.
I'm still waiting for something,
Still waiting, but what for?
Aquaint myself with lonliness
Accept my title, whore.
I've lived through death,
I've died once in life,
I'm waiting once again,
For my wrists to meet the knife.
Words hold the most power,
Although they can lie.
These words form an appointment;
I've been waiting to die.
Another short writing to the song Field of Innocence by Evanescence.
The wind picked up and blew an icy breeze that rustled her hair. Her stride remained angry but calm and the gentle crunch of snow under her boots was the only sound in the streets. As she stepped onto the sidewals, another draft blew open the side of her long coat, which she quickly corrected by zipping it.
The inside of the building was warm and made her face flush with pink. She approached the young woman behind the counter and was presented with a smile and a room key. The smile, however, was not returned and she took a seat in one of the uncomfortable chairs provided for the public in the lobby area.
Minutes after sitting, she check the time on the digital clock on a nearby wall and stood, making her way across the marble floor and towards one of the bustling elevators. The reflective metal doors parted and floods of people streamed out. After the rush, she made her way into the moving box and pressed the switch that would take her to the 10th floor.
The large, thick doors opened once again and her boot squeaked as she rounded the corner to the burgundy and beige hallway. Crimson and tan complimented the yellowish lighting and warmed the hall's blank texture.
She slowed to a stop in front of a door, room number; 1031. Removing the key from the pocket of her trenchcoat, she stepped into the cool-colored room and closed the door behind her. The room was sullen and filled with grey shadows for the only light source was from the open sliding glass doors leading to the balcony, where a gentle snowfall was collecting on the carpeting.
She made her way over to the door and stepped outside, leaning over onto the balcony railing and glaring into the pure whiteness of the city. Movement from the corner of her eye caught her attention and she turned her head to see what was moving. His figure was towering and the black he was dressed in, intimidating. The two moved closer and connected with a kiss. Both in each others arms, a breeze sent snowflakes swirling around them.
Only minutes passed before she broke the kiss and reached inside her coat, removing a gun. She placed it in his hands and gently pushed him away, whispering unknown words to him and taking a few steps back. He soon dissapeared back into the room as she resumed her spot on the balcony railing.
The day seemed so, blank, so drained of color, not to mention cold. Some of the taller buildings matched themselves with the days' recent snowfall, clean and white, but somehow gloomy and dark. And the echo of a voice had a heavenly ring to it, like that of a lone angel.
In his hand, the gun, as he reappeared on the balcony once again.
Waiting...
What is it I'm waiting for?
Just a simple hello...
Maybe a warm smile,
Before its my time to go...
I stare at grey letters,
Hoping they'll change,
That you'll breathe in these words,
And help my life rearange.
I'm still waiting for something,
Still waiting, but what for?
Aquaint myself with lonliness
Accept my title, whore.
I've lived through death,
I've died once in life,
I'm waiting once again,
For my wrists to meet the knife.
Words hold the most power,
Although they can lie.
These words form an appointment;
I've been waiting to die.
Another short writing to the song Field of Innocence by Evanescence.
The wind picked up and blew an icy breeze that rustled her hair. Her stride remained angry but calm and the gentle crunch of snow under her boots was the only sound in the streets. As she stepped onto the sidewals, another draft blew open the side of her long coat, which she quickly corrected by zipping it.
The inside of the building was warm and made her face flush with pink. She approached the young woman behind the counter and was presented with a smile and a room key. The smile, however, was not returned and she took a seat in one of the uncomfortable chairs provided for the public in the lobby area.
Minutes after sitting, she check the time on the digital clock on a nearby wall and stood, making her way across the marble floor and towards one of the bustling elevators. The reflective metal doors parted and floods of people streamed out. After the rush, she made her way into the moving box and pressed the switch that would take her to the 10th floor.
The large, thick doors opened once again and her boot squeaked as she rounded the corner to the burgundy and beige hallway. Crimson and tan complimented the yellowish lighting and warmed the hall's blank texture.
She slowed to a stop in front of a door, room number; 1031. Removing the key from the pocket of her trenchcoat, she stepped into the cool-colored room and closed the door behind her. The room was sullen and filled with grey shadows for the only light source was from the open sliding glass doors leading to the balcony, where a gentle snowfall was collecting on the carpeting.
She made her way over to the door and stepped outside, leaning over onto the balcony railing and glaring into the pure whiteness of the city. Movement from the corner of her eye caught her attention and she turned her head to see what was moving. His figure was towering and the black he was dressed in, intimidating. The two moved closer and connected with a kiss. Both in each others arms, a breeze sent snowflakes swirling around them.
Only minutes passed before she broke the kiss and reached inside her coat, removing a gun. She placed it in his hands and gently pushed him away, whispering unknown words to him and taking a few steps back. He soon dissapeared back into the room as she resumed her spot on the balcony railing.
The day seemed so, blank, so drained of color, not to mention cold. Some of the taller buildings matched themselves with the days' recent snowfall, clean and white, but somehow gloomy and dark. And the echo of a voice had a heavenly ring to it, like that of a lone angel.
In his hand, the gun, as he reappeared on the balcony once again.
posted by Elliya at 5:01 PM
Where the music is trapped. 
1 Comments:
in response to the poem that begins this post...
"Creation seems to come out of imperfection. It seems to come out of a striving and a frustration. And this is where I think language came from. I mean, it came from our desire to transcend our isolation and have some sort of connection with one another. And it had to be easy when it was just simple survival. Like, you know, "water." We came up with a sound for that. Or "Saber-toothed tiger right behind you." We came up with a sound for that. But when it gets really interesting, I think, is when we use that same system of symbols to communicate all the abstract and intangible things that we're experiencing. What is, like, frustration? Or what is anger or love? When I say "love," the sound comes out of my mouth and it hits the other person's ear, travels through this Byzantine conduit in their brain, you know, through their memories of love or lack of love, and they register what I'm saying and they say yes, they understand. But how do I know they understand? Because words are inert. They're just symbols. They're dead, you know? And so much of our experience is intangible. So much of what we perceive cannot be expressed. It's unspeakable. And yet, you know, when we communicate with one another, and we feel that we've connected, and we think that we're understood, I think we have a feeling of almost spiritual communion. And that feeling might be transient, but I think it's what we live for."
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