Vipey's Den

Yin and yang...

I really don't get it. Things shouldn't work like this. I had an awesome day. I went to church, picked up and ate with my mom without fighting with her, helped tutor a college girl in calc 3, and hung at my park for 6 and a half hours with many (most?) of my best friends. And the other people there were cool too. Yet still, as I pull up to my house, I'm angry, pissed, and hurt...with no explanation for why. Maybe cause my CD player is still gone so I had to sing to myself on the way home. I hate the way my voice sounds, normally anyways. That's why its good to have music...I don't have to listen to myself. Maybe I'm hurt because of my dreams clashing with reality, my thoughts with the outside world, and the huge discrepency between the way some things should be and the way they are. My aunts brother died. He was possibly one of the nicest, best people in the world. He had a wife and three little girls. He spent most of his time working for a volunteer organization, helping drug users, homeless people, and others who needed a second chance. One of them shot him in the head and took his wallet. He had less than $100 on him, no credit cards. This is the price of a human life now. Explain that.

Life doesn't need to be fair, but why does this kinda shit happen? Why can't I find ANYTHING outside my head that matches something within? Why is it that the more I come to understand, the less I like and more angry I become at it all? Why is it that if someone is dying, everyone cares about them, but when someone's living, people feel free to tear them down? Where is our "humanity"? Is this all their is to life? Don't get me wrong...my life rocks. Even the minor hiccups that I make such a big deal about are ok. But that doesn't seem to be enough.

There. Is. No. Meaning. Here.

"For all my dreams have turned to nightmares,
all my hopes shattered in my hand.
Now I grasp these broken shards and yell
screaming at the things gone past,
while the blood slowly drips from my fingers,
and I weap for that which has turned to ash.
But no one hears the noise,
no one really cares.
Just another broken soul,
a bloodsoaked figure on the floor.
No one cares for crying,
no one wants to help.
For who wants to accept help offered?
Weakness admited, suffering realized,
Pain. Made. Real.
For there is no such feeling as that
when one must look into their own eyes
and admit that they are powerless.
There is no worse feeling
than looking at one who knows you
and baring your ugly heart.
We lock ourselves apart,
we pluck at shadows,
all the while wondering how it came to this.
When trust is non-exsistant,
love naught but a pretty word.
And barely veiled angry flows
like the tears drowning our hearts.
The strain of standing warps our backs
and shatters our chests.
For where once dwelt the hearts of men
lies now an empty hole.
Cut me, I'll bleed,
but no blood flows in these veins.
I live on a thousand empty memories,
ten thousand ground-up dreams."

Don't ask why I wrote that...I really don't know. It just sorta...popped into my head. Morbid? Yeah...but so's life. 100% fatality rate, 47% divorce rate, 29% abuse rate, 0% innocence rate. We've done it to ourselves...and who will save us now?

Maybe someday I'll look back on these times and laugh, wondering why I let myself get down on such trivial issues. Understanding, though...my quest for knowledge of people and things around me...has led me in circles and brought only pain and despair. Its so much harder to look into the eyes of a killer and know why they did what they did, know full well they'd do it again if they had the choice...and you would too. And still, its wrong, you know it is...if only we could strip away this understanding and condemn freely again, mask the pain with ignorance, and know truely childish bliss.

Why oh why didn't I take the BLUE pill?

In case you were wondering, this is what I was attempting to sing while speeding home:

I put it all on black
The color you’re all dressed in
And a stab in the back
Left you bleeding on the floor
And their mourning the death
The recent passing of your insides
I smile and regret
Everytime I think of how I spoke to you

I put it all in back
Of my mind where I hold you
I’m just trying to keep track
How far back it really goes
And I’m living in lack
Of the blood sent from the heavens
I’m just tryin to relax
As a killer’s waiting right outside my door

What’s black and white was red all over
This tired, busted, organ donor

Sweet blasphemy, my giving tree
It hasn’t rained in years
I bring to you this sacrificial offering of virgin ears
Leave it to me, I’ll remain free
From all the comforts home
And where that is, I’m pleased as pissed to say
I’ll never really know

I put ’em all in black
The four walls of my bedroom
And I trimmed and then bled
Peeled your picture off the wall
And I’m living in lack
Of the blood sent from your heartbeat
That arrived in your neck
Everytime I salivated over you

What’s upside down was coated in silver
This crucifix is my four leaf clover

Sweet blasphemy, my giving tree
It hasn’t rained in years
I bring to you this sacrificial offering of virgin ears
Leave it to me, I’ll remain free
From all the comforts home
And where that is, I’m pleased as pissed to say
I’ll never really know

One of these days
It’s gonna catch up to you
Throwin looks like those around
And one of these nights
I promise to you
I’ll soon be sleeping sound
As soon as I leave town...

The trio is heroin for the broken soul...

Posted by Viper37 at July 11, 2004 11:58 PM