Made stuff for this xanga during the last hour... and a repost of a poem, for this poetry xanga. 

Candelabra and Decease

I wither away even after death,

Singing songs of another day.

With feelings I tried to suppress,

I lie in my bed of flora and decay.

These emotions come persistent,
Waiting to bloom a new tomorrow,

A place where I am existent,

Without angst, and without sorrow.

Impassively, I try and breathe,

Searching for the emotions I once caressed.

But what I find, I cannot perceive,

Instead I am binded to an eternity of distress.

I hear a voice from deep inside,

It slowly fades with my last breath,

In a field where loneliness reside,

I give in to my whimsical death.

I subscribed to "elite" people today.

(Am I the only loser who keeps two xangas?)

Click to see image.
http://img31.photobucket.com/albums/v93/Freakz19/?action=view&current=Purp.jpg

I think my life sucks more than ever now. I love.

I love.

Time will not mend these wounds,

That stitch themselves into my mind.

They cling to me like a beloved mark,

And to my soul they seemed to bind.

~~~~~~~~~Freakfestation19~~~~~~~~~

IMAGE

I look at myself,
What do I see?

A faded memory,

Of the person I used to be.

No longer saddened,

But no longer feeling,

My emotions have numbed,

My life had been peeling.

The pain had dulled,

And almost died away,

Though the depression has nulled,

I can feel it return today.

I never looked back to the past,

At the person I used to be,

But I realize at last,

I can never be anything but me.

Still locked up within,

I can sense that very hate,

The greed, jealousy, and sin,

Feelings, destined as my fate.

And I realize that I will never change,

The aesthetic life that I fake,

The part of my life I tried to rearrange,

Now back for you to take.

I look at myself once again,

What do I see?

Emotionally distraught,

Like the person I used to be…

~~~~~~~~~Freakfestation19~~~~~~~~~

The End.

I stand alone as time slowly dies,

Inhaling the things that made us less sane,

Took it in with all your lies,

The hate, the jealousy, the envy, the pain.

And to the love that would aspire,

To that which fell from grace,

The flare that could have died a fire,

Is left behind in a forgotten place.