Witty
02-16-2013, 11:37 AM
I Can't Stop.
http://images.huffingtonpost.com/2012-11-05-still3.jpg
Exert 1.
My brittle bones tap the keys, trapping me within this zone
And in my soul my faculties shackle me to sit and groan
Piss and moan, unhappily I live alone within this tome
That captures me, art that craftily has stitched and sewn
Itself to me, we become one with the help we need
To help each other grow, in my art I plant my seed
My heart it can't recede, this light in the dark is meant for me
My life is in these words, I write my scars to set me free
This book is my life, it's my wand, my suit...it's my strife
Losing my wife and kids, gave me awful blues..
...But I knew I had to choose, and I knew I was right
As he sits and faces a new day, his face is a blue/gray
The gloom in his basement raises his mood's flames
As the last withering flower decays in the bouquet
He meant to give his wife, and he hates that it's too late
He's standing and pacing, finding his place in his new fate
The choice he made took faith, it raised and removed weight
Now he can't regret, he has to face it and look straight
Into the eyes of grace, and the taste on his new plate
Exert 2.
Drinking through the night, I'm sinking into fright
See I write of what I think, and only think of what I write
And this river that flows succinct, is bringing me delight
My heart and soul on a page, my misery, my fight
Physically I'm broken, mentally I split my soul in two
Keep half for me, but still give what is owed to you
I won't pretend, my writtens are my only friends
Holding hands, a special bond formed from lonely pens
See I write about my life, but my life is just my writing
And though a real life is so inviting, my soul's declining
All day I stare at this paper, my nightmare and my savior
I can't stop writing, and other people? I can't bare them...
They're fakers.
As the words leak from the pen, he's weeping again
No sleep in a week, he's much weaker than planned
His heart beats for release, while he seeks to pretend
The beast he unleashed gives him peace as a friend
Though he knows it deceives, he still won't believe that it can
Pollute his soul...it can't be evil....it can't.
Exert 3.
I'm panicking, my words rambling...I can't think anymore
My pen's ink runs dry, as I cry and sink to the floor
But I have to stand, this disaster can't kill my master plan
I've been here before, this feeling will pass again
Writer's block, a drought in my mind's eye, the fire's hot
But the words mean nothing if my mind is locked
Out of inspiration, what is this blight that God's giving?
And how can you write about life, if you're not living?
I can't leave this desk, so I sit here dancing with stress
A bitter romance that will kill my plans, I'm a mess
I know I need to get out, and just give up this damn plot
But my words need me, I need my words...I just..
...can't
stop...
http://images.huffingtonpost.com/2012-11-05-still3.jpg
Exert 1.
My brittle bones tap the keys, trapping me within this zone
And in my soul my faculties shackle me to sit and groan
Piss and moan, unhappily I live alone within this tome
That captures me, art that craftily has stitched and sewn
Itself to me, we become one with the help we need
To help each other grow, in my art I plant my seed
My heart it can't recede, this light in the dark is meant for me
My life is in these words, I write my scars to set me free
This book is my life, it's my wand, my suit...it's my strife
Losing my wife and kids, gave me awful blues..
...But I knew I had to choose, and I knew I was right
As he sits and faces a new day, his face is a blue/gray
The gloom in his basement raises his mood's flames
As the last withering flower decays in the bouquet
He meant to give his wife, and he hates that it's too late
He's standing and pacing, finding his place in his new fate
The choice he made took faith, it raised and removed weight
Now he can't regret, he has to face it and look straight
Into the eyes of grace, and the taste on his new plate
Exert 2.
Drinking through the night, I'm sinking into fright
See I write of what I think, and only think of what I write
And this river that flows succinct, is bringing me delight
My heart and soul on a page, my misery, my fight
Physically I'm broken, mentally I split my soul in two
Keep half for me, but still give what is owed to you
I won't pretend, my writtens are my only friends
Holding hands, a special bond formed from lonely pens
See I write about my life, but my life is just my writing
And though a real life is so inviting, my soul's declining
All day I stare at this paper, my nightmare and my savior
I can't stop writing, and other people? I can't bare them...
They're fakers.
As the words leak from the pen, he's weeping again
No sleep in a week, he's much weaker than planned
His heart beats for release, while he seeks to pretend
The beast he unleashed gives him peace as a friend
Though he knows it deceives, he still won't believe that it can
Pollute his soul...it can't be evil....it can't.
Exert 3.
I'm panicking, my words rambling...I can't think anymore
My pen's ink runs dry, as I cry and sink to the floor
But I have to stand, this disaster can't kill my master plan
I've been here before, this feeling will pass again
Writer's block, a drought in my mind's eye, the fire's hot
But the words mean nothing if my mind is locked
Out of inspiration, what is this blight that God's giving?
And how can you write about life, if you're not living?
I can't leave this desk, so I sit here dancing with stress
A bitter romance that will kill my plans, I'm a mess
I know I need to get out, and just give up this damn plot
But my words need me, I need my words...I just..
...can't
stop...