They tell me I'm wrong but I'll continue to stumble along
and forget my name; it was never important to begin with
I think it was more for them than for me and I am tired of a life
bending over backwards to accomodate what you
felt you need and wanted and were dying to find out
But remained unimpressed when you discovered that what I had
was not an answer per se but just a vortex
in which you could immerse yourself and come out none the wiser
3 days later
with disheveled hair and a renewed desire to never return
though to him or me you couldn't recall
I didn't love you but I never said I did and though I heard you say so
many times I forgave you because you were in a tight spot and I was half there as a friend as much as anything else. Some friend, yes.

And I'm bored of continually writing about the same things
as if it was all I thought about
when there are a million desires I feel on a daily basis more important and, indeed, poetic than how I feel about you and I
though I struggle to put those into words and, over the years,
I think I am working towards developing a single unified statement regarding the whole mess;
I guess you will concur that those about you are better than those about her, no?

Oh but I guess hers were written in a time when I was more innocent with my emotions...
but, you must remember that I was also much more self conscious then
and I think I was struggling with a lot of things that I preferred not to address and instead stuck with the
'I have loved and I have lost' approach to explain everything
when in reality I don't think it was love and in the long run the lost was for the best;
she was kind enough to give herself to me absolutely but she had not that much going on that did not relate solely to her and she could justify any of her actions based on her claim that I hated myself
which was not 100% true but, needless to say, I had the last laugh...
do you mind that my thoughts about you become eulogies to her?

But anyway I hope this finds you well and remember that
I never mean anything I do or say and I am equally confused
by whatever comes out of my mouth and wipe the sweat from your forehead and forget I ever called because you're staying there
and I will be here and everything will remain static until February I think, though they've closed down my favourite bar
and I assume Thursday nights aren't as fun

Stop sobbing. You've lost me. Your story is fractured and self-contradictory. I think your hair is beautiful. Yes it was me but I was working as part of a team. No one was hurt. It's on my wall, though you can see the guilt in my eyes in the photograph. Goodbye.

Disclaimer: All opinions stated and allegations made in the preceeding do not represent the view of Evan Torrie, the Moderators or the TW Message Board as a whole

Based on these, I think I write a lot better when I'm either in love or have something recent to cry about.

So, if any of you ladies want to come and seduce me then leave without saying goodbye then, please, go ahead.


Also, reading these, I really miss beatled.

It's a celebration!

If I showed you my lips as a faltering fist,
Would that hit you harder than words?
Divide from me; merciful, swift; don't persist
To section me off into thirds

I've known one astride of misguided perceptions
You've thrown one aside for your grind
I've grown one inside of the murky conceptions
You've sewn out in your own design

Will I suckle, eternal, vermiculate minds?
How'd derangement become such a charmer?
You may think you've pulled off some immaculate crime
But, I see through the chinks in your armor

I love you, but there's such a lot not to love
It gets hard not to treat you like family
When, I've lost my innocence; you, your kid gloves
You removed them to better examine me


Blame it all on my roots, I showed up in boots
And ruined your black-tie affair

I was going through my old stuff and I found this one piece of garbage that I fancied as a fair piece of prose five months ago. So, I took the parts I liked (like, three words) and tried to make something better.




When darkness replaces
Your glittering traces
With faces, so hollow in malcontent

When I sleep in the sun
Where there's room for just one
Where the cold and the space aren't so prominent

It's easy to spite the once startling sight
Of an aubergine hand pinned in buttery white
To forget that there ever was warm, Summer light
Cast upon life and limb
Even, cast upon night

Emblazoning footfalls of angels on cheeks
Drawing out lines to get lost in for weeks
We met in a most perfect phase of dichotomy
We sought for to mutually raise dulcet harmony

With alien glow, you were haloed in sweat
And, ossein splinters rose from your silhouette
As they merged into mine, I'm quite sure that I wept
For a sweet, fleeting oneness that couldn't be kept

Blame it all on my roots, I showed up in boots
And ruined your black-tie affair

This is the first time I've decided to take on this subject matter. The task seemed somewhat daunting, but I felt I owed it to myself to put my muddled insights through the creative crucible and see which thoughts stuck.



I'll still pause for a vestige of my ancient faith
Church bells on dark mornings, with damp cigarettes
As my Brothers and Sisters smoke, dry, with their Wraiths
Where the sun burns as red as their steel bayonets

While false Gods gorge themselves in their rivers of soma,
And, lulling, they purr their nepenthe-laiden anthems,
We hear planes, We hear trains, over, under this coma
And, We wake, soaked in fears, knowing no one could man them

To deny We're still good, fall so far from Our graces,
Is a crime against You; those We strive to remember
But, We can't see two inches in front of Our faces
Past the smoke and the noise and the snow in September

Choking life, the smoke spreads, but won't get any lighter,
Over all of god's Children; too tired to fuss
In our bootless pursuit of a great, ruthless leader
We forgot that the only great leader is Us



edit: I'd really appreciate some feedback on this. I changed it a bit. I like the concept behind the capitalization and lack thereof, but I'm not sure if it's overkill, because, well, I can't gauge how effectively my own thoughts are coming across. Any response is appreciated.

Climb into my arms.. With blood on your clothes.. You've got a glow...

Edited by JarethsGirl on 11/21/06 06:36 AM (server time).

and I wept then:
at first for him and then for me
at everything he had lost and that I myself would never possess;
it is difficult to realize that you are alone
but the poor bastard never had to
deal with his own repulsion day to day

but it was over in an instant and I covered my face
in shame and to hurry the repression of what had come to pass


and though tonight I should be laughing,
you've caught me sobbing on my own

and while the weather should be warm now,
we're waiting on the first snow


and let it clear away the impurities
that I try to keep from view
and let it sanctify the paths
that my footsteps have defiled
and let it absolve the consciences
of anyone that puts themselves to task
for the melancholic reveries
brought about through machinations of my own


and though tonight I should be laughing,
you've caught me sobbing on my own

and while the weather should be warm now,
we're waiting for the first snow

If a candle has burned brilliantly but now stands alone in the dark with its flame extinguished, it need no longer fear that its substance will disolve into hot wax

Half light
for half the night
with curtains that won't close
and blinds left alone
and the stars that trace your spine
through the cloudy sky
and the rain on your face
reminds me of someone,
almost forgotten now;
from a time when the future lay infinitely just out of reach
for the best because it would eventually be squandered just like the past
and the streets lined with trees
as opposed to these gunmetal skies

but I digress

as sleep becomes life
as today becomes whole
I've forgotten myself and what I wanted
, unimportant no doubt,
though my dreams are still taken by yesterday
which scares me more than tomorrow
but there was a comfort there then
that I've only seen now:
a blanket wrappet tightly as a shroud to seal off all thought
and seed spilled needlessly on the ground

what am I saying?

half light
for half the night
the moon in your hair
with the clouds in your eyes
it hurts me everytime

but you'll be gone when I wake up

If a candle has burned brilliantly but now stands alone in the dark with its flame extinguished, it need no longer fear that its substance will disolve into hot wax

Affected less now
in the dull light of the day
but restless austerities
performed, of course, in vain
ensure that sleep will not come tonight

and another young man
possessed by passion
his world betrayed
tears himself apart for the approval of dawn
risen early to observe her son
this time never having known what his predecessor lost...
except for in his dreams where he knows he will see you again

and what of me this time? again the observer
though now to experiences of which I cannot compare
whereas time was I cried,
now there is resignation
and the knowledge that I will be here again in 5 years time
and, comaratively,
tonight;
70 years ago;
2001;
Thailand;
Tennoji;
St. Albans.


All are one:

like runaway horses
with nowhere left to run


If a candle has burned brilliantly but now stands alone in the dark with its flame extinguished, it need no longer fear that its substance will disolve into hot wax

Sorry about the late reply but I only just saw your edit.


Forget the capitals, rely on your words; it certainly works as it is but without the capitalisation it lets the reader chose the ultimate theme as to what is applicable to them.

If a candle has burned brilliantly but now stands alone in the dark with its flame extinguished, it need no longer fear that its substance will disolve into hot wax

As he said
we met again
in foreign lands
in persuit but leisurely
for the time has passed for the passions and sacrifice;
those hallmarks of a young man's game.

His knees damp with dew from the long blades of glass
watching silently the released rapture and celebration of youth
he is prostrate, as ever, before the Temple of Dawn
discovered and destroyed, all in an instant

or behind the books where at once was revealed what he had looked for again
I observed the voyeur and found that he was watching me

for here too there lies the Temple of Dawn
born and decayed and rebirthed once more

And, despite the conflagaration of the flames, his quest complete
only for her to be reclaimed, unlike those before her, in seeming accident
without warning of when or where
the cycle will be complete
nevertheless, he prepares to go to battle again,
then into eternity

and I too will leave, for now
these golden spires
fully aware that time will again have me brought,
broken once more
at the Temple of Dawn:
created, scented, forgotten by the second
just to begin again

Whether in success or failure, sooner or later time must lead to disillusionment...