Foolish joyful
Mood: exhausted
Listening to: goodnight goodnight by hot hot heat
What fate is worse, than bareing your face, dirty and human to the lover more pure than the face of heaven
what exstacy is found in exploiting your emotion to be torn down like a tattered tent, over used and under kept
who bleeds the wrists of saints to fill a cup no ones lips will touch, is there sanity in this dillusion, what meeting of flesh is worth these trials
no harmony of scent is unimaginable, so why do heros fall and heroins take their life with bitter knives and die to find their lover was sleeping all along
why do the blind follow eyes finally open to light and bright resiliant color into the dark again grasping at hands not promising to be there?
by emily kirkendoll 5/18/2005
