August 18th, 2009

01:26 am - Evangeline T. Ophal Why, the hell, does he torture her? And why does she torture herself? They are bond together by the cruel fate. If you believe in such. He is in pain, and it hurts her. He tries to drown her, and it hurts. She says she won't die, and he doesn't want her anymore. But when they are together, none of it ever mattered. There is a sparkle. There is a high that no weed can offer. It's the gift of the god to the cursed, to make up for their suffering. Something so special, it can never die, it's immortal. I am immrotal. I am so high, high on the wind that gently touches every pore on my skin. A skin that has been burnt down so many times. It resembles me. You know I hate mirrors. But I do love the wind. The way it licks my fingers, plays with my hair...I could dance with him all night long. And I do. I'm extatic and euphoric when I feel the wind under my clothes and everywhere on my body. Every molecule, like she said. It's one of the most beautiful meanings on Earth. I breath fire, so he can feel it inside me. He likes it so much, I'm almost scared. Liquid fear runs from me to him and increases both heartbeats. There is a sparkle, and everything goes dark, just the way we like it. I loose my molecular cover, he becomes free beside me. And we are one full energy that floats through space and time. None if it ever mattered. Her heartbeat stops for a second to listen to his. They drawn in their own blood. They are apart, in the cold reality, which they never wanted to create. Fire! It is consumed and devoured by water completely, like their liquid souls. A teardrop touches the ground, siltently. Because silence matters, in this one moment of fate and lust. But it is crushed, destroyed, simply broken by screams from the inside. Everything is, every single perfection. She has lost the ground beneath her, her Earth that kept her connected to life. And he is gone undergroung long ago. All things considered, he was still with her till the end. Her and no one else. They are apart now in this bloody cold world. And she hates him as much as she loves him. She would follow him, but she can't. A small pile of sand sleeps peacefully in her palm. The only peaceful thing left. The pulse will be rushing again, another time. Sand hits the ground. She dies, he dies, it's all the same in the end. It doesn't matter who'll go first. There is only love, hate and life. Poets will verse, the Sun will rise once again, and lovers will die after a life of suffering. I am the prophet of the modern society, because I aknowledge the past. See you at sunrise. There is still only love, hate and life. Always remember to make enough trouble to have no regrets. Current Mood: sick Current Music: Joe

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