So what does it all come down to. In the end.
When they finally see everything you meant. Everything you stood for. And understood its worth. What are you then?
A waste of a life is what you are. There is nothing more tragic to me than the artists who are mocked and ignored and then discovered geniouses after their death. How fucking cruel. If someone is dead bury their damn art with them. Why tell such things to the rest of the world, make it so the rest of the artists can never let it go...sure that itll be worth even if they never know.

I'm writing this because I am frustrated. Exausted. Tired. Ashamed. Rejected. Etc.
I'm not in the greatest of moods...to say the least. And I've a 'poetry portfolio' to hand in and read from tomorrow. It sucks I'll be honest. I've never before tried to use techniques and while i can't disagree with the geniosness of it all its very hard to confine my emotion to it...although without it i can't really get my message across at all. Not that this is really what's causing my mood but..regardless...here is my rant. Havn't had one on here for quite a while..

Chemical Freedom

Every chemical is bursting at the seams of every surface of skin
Lifted by the cloud of it, It is power
Suspended there with no way of coming down
Thoughts have been discovered to be useless
Except in their discovery of this
Who have named the body in charge.

Your own spotlight

     LoUDD

                   Ugguly

Naked.           

Dignity drains like some unwanted piss
Every fear now exposed

Hide anywhere

Let   it    ling    er

Close your eyes                                   
              
It's safe in darkness                                                   

Crawl inside.                                                                                          

Intrigue

Intrigue.

Knowng only enough to know that it doesn’t clash with everything you’ve dreamed of.

Make it into whatever you want it to be. When there’s still mystery.

Disappointment is inevitable. Our minds, and imaginations will always be superior to our eyes and our lies.

Are you afraid of superficiality? Does it seem evil and cheap? What about something that’s both shallow and deep. The beauty of something that’s real. What defines each other. And then that question like a woodpecker that just wont go away-

Does it matter. And why.

Circles and circles and circles they keep us alive because we’ll never find anything but we’ll never find nothing.

Intrigue is essential. You fail the game if you don’t let them dream. And what happens if you’re stuck in it. If you couldn’t make sense if you tried. And what if you tried.

Don’t give yourself away too much- if disappointment comes too early the search for anything else will end. The dependency won’t begin. See now I’m a true romantic. True. Cynical and real.

You’ll always be a disappointment and I’ll never be something to see. But there are needs.