I cant hear my own thoughts these days.
Only words of songs I know too well
And forgotten poems -- a line
here and there
Missing its
other half
Sometimes its head, sometimes
-- its heart;
Never complete, never really
Saying what it means to say,
Like a clever joke with
bad deliv-
ery.
I try too hard, and yet, I never try.
I want so much --
And yet I have nothing to give.
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
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Edgar Allen Poe: Alone
4 comments:
Ok, for a more related comment :-P Though rather flippant :-) lol.
I like how the last three lines seem random and disconnected from the rest of the...umm...is it a poem?? :-P (cuz it reminds me of my thoughts! :-) I say they seem, because I followed :-D lol.
Oh hey, every time I read it, I love the "bad deliv-ery"! it's awesome! :-) lol.
Oh man I've such a headache my head is splitting from the strain of thinking! Later yo :-) Sorry it's not much of a "learned" comment :-P
I know what you mean... sometimes it's never meant to be finished - and sometimes it's better that way... sort of an influx of thoughts...it ebbs...
I really love pixie dust ^-^
bad deliv-
ery.
yeah.
words cannot say how i feel about this.
but nice... very. alors!
Love it. But the last line seems to go off on a tangent almost, like it's opening a whole new door at the very end...maybe it will be different when reread for the many-th time...but this is the best so far, i think. worth a lot to me.
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