"Ah, The notion of shedding ones yolk of despare and killing the world that bore it upon you. Sorrow and Rage , Regret and Contempt, the list can grow. But the concept is still the same.
We are all slaves here in some fasion or another. Slaves to our principles, slaves to our desires we dub as vices, some of us are just born slaves. I dream of the days when rage ran rampant and unchecked, no law to bridle chaos.
Life is a comedy to those who think, and a tragedy to those who feel.
This is no medium to truely define the shape and measure of our misfortunes. But the need to bleed be it physical or not is always there. The need to drain a little of ourselves away to make less there to be wounded.
My condolesces on your recent pitfalls, I'm not even going to attempt some degree of sugar coating it. But misery loves company, so your gauranteed never to be alone in this moment.
But thanks for helping me remember the line: I dream too much and think too little. A more fitting definition of my current state. But I feel more like yours."
That was my lil' comment to Dia after the statment: I work too much. I kill too little.
The lass frightens me in a way she nor anyone else would ever understand. Fear is a funny thing; If it is such an unbearable asspect of our lives then why do we seek to draw it out of us?
Why do we crave it in times of complacancy. This is all smoke and mirrors. This world of rants and flirts. Statments and opinions. Is it truely who we are?
A man can brave a thousand horrors from behind a glass, a woman can love a thousand men from the pages they have writen, a child can dream with out sleeping.
Time has rung my hands weak, slumber calls. I fear I will dream, I pray that I do.
We are all slaves here in some fasion or another. Slaves to our principles, slaves to our desires we dub as vices, some of us are just born slaves. I dream of the days when rage ran rampant and unchecked, no law to bridle chaos.
Life is a comedy to those who think, and a tragedy to those who feel.
This is no medium to truely define the shape and measure of our misfortunes. But the need to bleed be it physical or not is always there. The need to drain a little of ourselves away to make less there to be wounded.
My condolesces on your recent pitfalls, I'm not even going to attempt some degree of sugar coating it. But misery loves company, so your gauranteed never to be alone in this moment.
But thanks for helping me remember the line: I dream too much and think too little. A more fitting definition of my current state. But I feel more like yours."
That was my lil' comment to Dia after the statment: I work too much. I kill too little.
The lass frightens me in a way she nor anyone else would ever understand. Fear is a funny thing; If it is such an unbearable asspect of our lives then why do we seek to draw it out of us?
Why do we crave it in times of complacancy. This is all smoke and mirrors. This world of rants and flirts. Statments and opinions. Is it truely who we are?
A man can brave a thousand horrors from behind a glass, a woman can love a thousand men from the pages they have writen, a child can dream with out sleeping.
Time has rung my hands weak, slumber calls. I fear I will dream, I pray that I do.