Diary Entry,aev

Ali

Me2.
Going to be with you in
the afterglow.
I hope.
Worldwide suicide,
#1,...
but
do you have the marks
on your head
of the 144,000?;)
I would assume so...
Bought you some stuff,
All assumations.

clifford_1972

Ali wrote:

Me2.
Going to be with you in
the afterglow.
I hope.
Worldwide suicide,
#1,...
but
do you have the marks
on your head
of the 144,000?;)
I would assume so...
Bought you some stuff,
All assumations.

Darkness come...hide me from the light.
Bring your peace in the stillness of night.
Let me drift on a sea of stars,
Take me away in a dream...
Show me the mysteries that you hold
And all the secrets that are untold
In the night...

Ali

clifford_1972 wrote:

Darkness come...hide me from the light.
Bring your peace in the stillness of night.
Let me drift on a sea of stars,
Take me away in a dream...
Show me the mysteries that you hold
And all the secrets that are untold
In the night...

And when the stars fall,
and there is no sky,
a place imagined,
for you and I.
The seas churn,
The shore is awake,
The seagulls fly,
while the sickness makes
me fall down,
hands to the ground
with a scrape left on my back.
But I have the ocean,
But I have the ocean,
But I have the ocean,
But I have you.

clifford_1972

Ali wrote:

And when the stars fall,
and there is no sky,
a place imagined,
for you and I.
The seas churn,
The shore is awake,
The seagulls fly,
while the sickness makes
me fall down,
hands to the ground
with a scrape left on my back.
But I have the ocean,
But I have the ocean,
But I have the ocean,
But I have you.

wired
insomniac sunrise
a refuge from dreams
of walls too close,
rooms full of flowers,
and angels that litter the meadow
pale ghosts, weary of rain


mad for daylight
I write poetry with crayons
in the colors of dawn
that recall our once garden
of lillies and star gazers
strewn across your bed

Ali

clifford_1972 wrote:

wired
insomniac sunrise
a refuge from dreams
of walls too close,
rooms full of flowers,
and angels that litter the meadow
pale ghosts, weary of rain


mad for daylight
I write poetry with crayons
in the colors of dawn
that recall our once garden
of lillies and star gazers
strewn across your bed

I dress with a broken mirror
talk to myself in dialogue that
they can never feel an interest
to write about
Stealing kisses from the flaming bills
and the money I don't have
Who will be my friend now?
The checks bounce,
The car falls apart,
without anyone to appreciate
homemade wedding cards
and crosses made of steal.