"Haunted" 2004-01-02 - 4:25 a.m.

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Berserk and Motorhead leave me with adrenalin pounding through my veins, making me unable to sit still or think straight

She stops me cold

She leaves me more confused than the conflicting conflicting emotions

so I go outside

the silence and cold bleed it away

and for all the crudeness of the metaphor; my soul feels like a bulemic's stomach:

so full a moment ago, but now forcefully empty

the residue sinks to the bottom and mixes 'til it's grey and jumbled

and I don't know what I want to say but I know I want to say it

I need something; and this diary has become my crutch

it's like entering a room I used to live in; but haven't been inside in a long time

the air is musty but it's still home

and I want to delay my leaving as long as possible;

because once I go to sleep, that's what will happen

I'll leave the room, enter another, become someone else

so I sit on the furniture, admire the decor; do nothing other than enjoy the room

'cause I'll only be here for a short while

until the residue is used up

but you can only stand in a room so long,

eventually you must leave, for there's always other things to do

Sweet Dreams

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