"Your writing . . . it sounds like you are fighting yourself."

Nov. 9th, 2004 A few more pieces about my urges to unleash (not release.) And since I'm lazy, I'm just posting them all together, yet again.

I still hear her voice from over two years ago
Streched out lengthwise together naked on my bed
"Your writing . . . it sounds like you are fighting yourself."
The thought of it still cracks my lips into a smile
Both from anger and a knowing sense of the perverted truth
Little does she know that it is a war that I don't wish to win
"I'm not fighting myself. I'm just fighting with you."

It isn't anger that I feel when the music plays in my head
Loud and heavy, fast as f**k
Something you can never hear and be the same after the fact
The violence that I feel walking down the street
The urges to unleash (not release)
It is all about power, power that you don't have
Yet, I'll still try to take . . . because it is all mine
So yeah, I am fighting myself
Fighting myself from doing something really f*****g stupid
Something down right sick . . .

If you really have to ask, there is something . . . one thing . . .
The one thing that I hate more than myself
Everything else
It isn't a disease of the brain, or just a moment of weakness
There is no weakness in these dreams of hope and sex and death
I know where I stand and where I need to be
Every moment of every step of every breath that I let you take
So if it is a disease, if it is a weakness
Tell it to your god
But for now I want you to scream . . . just . . . for . . . me . . .

So I fight what it is inside myself, here in my hollow
As my fingers trace the lines of my skull
While lying in a folded fetal embrace
Looking for the devil within this dry shell
But all I bleed is red warm blood, not grey dust and ash
That the fact I'm alive is known to me now
I must stay true to whom and what I am
And what I must become
The child of Love and of War
A being of fire, the bringer of dust and ash

Blade in hand I lurk, seeking to give you freedom
As the rapists of the Illuminati turn their war machines
And the killers at your work warp and scheme against you
Don't stop and waste your time
Thinking about what the rules to this game are
Because I need to tell you . . .
I am not playing!!!
Though, for me it's fun

Reviews

[Rich Horror]

I dig the first two lines especially. At first they read as if her voice is lying naked on your bed, good imagery.