Contacting Ebshabutiee
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Friday, July 17, 2009

I'll hold it to you, Krasivaya. Part IV

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Church Street is a massive ironic slap in the face.
I sat down the other day
and for no reason
thought of taking you
my sharp little dream
and ruining my skin
the skin that has never been abused
out of pure

I hate myself on so many levels because of you, voices.
Why must this be this way
I feel ashamed looking in the pools of water
seeing the fits of talent and ideas
being thrown away
leaking deeper into
the grasping terrace

I hate myself because I am not like everyone else
they have the problems
they have the reason to run
having the first person with knee-high riches
and then having the third person with a vocabulary
full of elegant composure
irritates me
maybe thats why I urged my way in
the only thinking keeping me
is my chance to see sin.

Terra found her place complacent and lackluster, and at the very least homely. The voices have grown so old with her, but she has a long road to trek. At least she hopes. The wolves always know their place, moving throughout the forest but leaving her be. As long as she remains with the elegant composure they dare not step foot. But her voices, they grow cold. They have personalized themselves, each one slowly feeling that they are their own body, that Terra, she is nothing more than a husk.
and they want to leave
and I would like to leave
we live so much more freely
than ever before
and soon enough
we will crack the husk.

I wish to crack my husk,
I wish to rid myself of my name
Erik, a celestial force can't have such a name
when I escape Terra, when I flee
I will rid it all,
it will feel great to be so original
or will it?
I have no idea anymore

and the land I live
the stories we feed
to children
make me sick
because I am just another godless

and the street I live on
its the perfect place for a cynic.
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