Thursday, 02 June 2011
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How's this for a piece of shit?
And don't try to tell me it isn't because I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that it is. I will call anything inspiration and the drivel I spit up afterward poetic -- if you let me. Don't let me. I'm just a narcissistic little bitch with grandly deluded ideas inside her head -- too damn full of myself to see past my reflection. My ego is Narcissus -- it glanced at it's reflection in the mirror and hasn't been able to look away since. But my ego was only born after my self-esteem died (or rather, was murdered; thank you mother -- I have to blame you, there's no one else to take the blame; my ego won't accept it and neither will I). Just because I do insignificantly insane better than you doesn't make me a decent poet, let alone a literary god (as I would so like to delude myself into believing I am). I have my grand delusions, though they aren't as grand and deluded as some, they're still enough to keep this little island to herself -- singing and dancing to and for gods that have never and will never exist; myself especially.
[bear in mind this is four days after my caffeine binge that lasted about a week and a half. would you expect any less from a heroine addict? Then expect nothing less from me.]
inspired by x_conspiracyyWe’re all just islands.
We try so hard to be so much more,
but we’re all just insignificant,
islands unto ourselves—
you will never know me,
and I will never know you;
we can never be more than what we are:
islands drifting apart at sea.
Insignificant, unimportant, inane islands
lost at sea, drifting from no place to nowhere;
king and queen of our own little godforsaken spit of land,
singing and dancing to the tunes of nostalgia
and insanity—
insignificant, insane little islands,
that’s all we are.
With nothing but death between us.
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Comments (12)
@ctaretz - thanks for trying, but this is far from beautiful and less than poetic.
@ctaretz - In the current mood I'm in -- absolutely not. As for taking compliments, I was never really capable of that even as a child. I know that sounds like a cop-out (mostly cause it is, in the eyes of many), but it is true all the same. See what you like, but I disagree all the same.
I like you. You're growing on me. :) Stop making that face at me >:/
Fling this shit up on the wall and leave it there. It's fuckin' art, ok?
@WritingTheTides - Sincerely (casting the bitch aside momentarily) thank you. I'm human, selfish, and moody -- I needed someone to slap some sense into me. However, the bitch is going to resume pouting like a child now.
Spitting venom tonight. That's not bad, especially since after the slam, I can't not hear it in your voice.
@DarklyLitWords - I'll take that as good and bad; bad because I'm afraid it's going to define me (though it all ready does, I'd rather it not define me in terms of how you see me).
@MyHomeIsWriting - It's only one certain pieces, the more...not personal ones, but the less fictionalized ones.
@DarklyLitWords - I can accept that.
Nice work. I understand you are taking the opposite stance, but you reminded me of this from Meditation XVII. "No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main. If a clod be washed away by the sea,
Europe is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as well as if a
manor of thy friend's or of thine own were: any man's death diminishes
me, because I am involved in mankind, and therefore never send to know
for whom the bells tolls; it tolls for thee."
@nuirxestel - thanks