My Blog

Maybe..

Dianatomy — Mon, 26 Dec 2011 05:35:27 +0000

just maybe you’re thinking of me too, the same way I do of you.

..

Dianatomy — Mon, 19 Dec 2011 04:43:22 +0000

Promises are meant to be broken.

Commitment meant to be betrayed.

Forgive me, I am yours forever.

Disheartened

Dianatomy — Thu, 24 Nov 2011 04:08:32 +0000

The silence of unspoken words.

I’m scared.

I’m alone, though you’re right here.

I’m hurting.

Blinded by a path to perfection that falls apart as you approach.

My past.

Haunting and inviting;

Bruises are but skin deep.

“Don’t you miss your childhood?”

Maybe you could show me how.

I was thinking you could fix me.

Beware for my protection will ward us.

Persistency.

Consistency.

Fix me.

My sweet addiction will eat me alive before I take another bite.

The End

Dianatomy — Thu, 27 Oct 2011 03:43:56 +0000

Lost in a sea of hope and disappointment.

I forgot what it is to live.

To love.

I’m drowning in my sorrow,

don’t have the strength to swim..

to move.

My eyes quietly ask for help,

but dry out with a goodbye.

I must leave, I say.

Stay.

Staying will only make it worse.

Running away sheds the pain and pounds

that releasing my demons disallows.

With my last breath I’ll beg for a warm bed,

a sea of flowers glowing in the sun.

I’ll plead for one more starlit night,

or a breezy day with sunshine.

I’ll break upon arriving to my coffin,

pick up the pieces and reassemble what seems to be perfection.

They’ll awe and love,

accepting my return.

But they don’t know what lies below the veil of lies,

they won’t until I reach the end.

The end is near, I can taste it in my sleep.

It’s that of vinegar and sake,

with eight more pills and one last drink.

The end is near, I see it in my eyes.

Lifeless and scared, they smile like no other.

Shine like no other.

They glitter in the sun that’s soon to be home.

With wilderness I’ll stray,

run along with the birds.

Be part of nothing.

Feel nothing.

The end is near,

the end is here.

Frail

Dianatomy — Sun, 21 Aug 2011 18:40:51 +0000

The fear I feared the most,

a deceiving smirk as you boast.

A face can’t hide betrayal,

your words have made me frail.

But what’s not spoken speaks the loudest,

your eyes confirm you’re at your proudest.

Broken and shattered,

no really, I’m flattered.

All the nights spent uncontrolled,

all the glares left oversold.

Your eyes whisper the truth.

I’m escaping my youth.

The fear is gone for I have faced,

the delusion has slowly effaced.

A path ahead brings promises you never could,

over my grave you proudly stood.

Admiring your work of art,

upset when I didn’t comprehend.

Upset when I had fallen deep in the earth,

it was you who did this, for what it’s worth.

The truth has risen along with hope,

No need for you any-more.

Moonlit Night

Dianatomy — Tue, 16 Aug 2011 21:16:41 +0000

Disappointment fills my thoughts,

Waiting nervously for your call.

I lay impatiently all curled up,

For a moment I’m not so tall.

The next’s a blur, I’m next you.

We’re walking slow as the night turns blue.

In the breeze we joke about,

I wonder what you’re thinking bout.

We’re sitting down, you ease in,

I can hear your breathing.

For a moment I disappear,

What am I doing here?

I lose control, but I don’t mind,

Or fingers are loosely twined.

I feel safe, you say you’re mine,

I hope that you don’t change your mind.

We walk back home, your arm my net,

You’re there to catch me, I won’t fret.

The days pass by,

you’re absent most of the time.

I know what’s going on,

I know that we’re done.

No goodbye before the next,

I’ll miss you.

Forgetting

Dianatomy — Fri, 08 Jul 2011 22:30:22 +0000

Beautiful song

Doors will be discontinued

Dianatomy — Mon, 27 Jun 2011 22:53:12 +0000

Sorry if you were reading it. I lost inspiration. Writer’s block? I have no idea. I’ll start a new series soon though

Doors 4

Dianatomy — Tue, 14 Jun 2011 02:49:21 +0000

John didn’t come to school that day, I imagined he was sick or something; I never imagined he’d be behind a fast food place with a lighter. The next day all he could talk about was how “blown” he’d gotten with his buddy. I wouldn’t call that buddy a friend because what kind of friend would accompany you, while you threw your life away, and not say anything? He knew I didn’t want to hear it so he turned to Jenny, the cool card friend, and started rambling on and on. He seemed to find joy in the fact that he couldn’t remember part of that day, he found joy knowing he’d ditched school to pursuit happiness. A happiness that only lasted a couple of hours, I never understood that. To me, happiness was about finding the one that you loved, succeeding in school, and getting a well-paying job, then later having kids and being able to gift them anything they desired. Happiness meant never having to worry about money, never having to worry about anything. I felt that John had a false perception of happiness, but maybe I did. John made me question a lot of things without asking me anything; he made me start looking at my life through his eyes. John’s eyes were dark brown, but my hazel eyes blended in without a problem.

Doors 3

Dianatomy — Sat, 11 Jun 2011 17:18:15 +0000

After I had that dream, I couldn’t help but to connect it to the influences around me. For example, the clouds must have been the cocaine I was always thinking about. John was the grass. He was suffocating me with a life I didn’t know about. He was the sharp weeds that could be potentially harming, not to mention, he did weed himself. I didn’t know if I should consider the dream a nightmare or an insight; but I should have foreshadowed. I started my morning routine at 5 am; after two hours of laying on my bed restlessly I came to the conclusion that it was time to be productive. Something about that morning seemed odd. It might have been the lack of sleep, but it might have been something else. They say every human is born with a brain that carries enough knowledge to save the world, but we can’t access all of it. They also say that along with knowledge, people carry a sixth sence; like knowing what’s to come. I like to think of myself as having that sixth sence; but on mornings like those the sixth sence feels more like a rock than an enlightenment. My glare felt heavy as did my charisma; it was a feeling I had only experienced two years ago when I saw my grandfather in a dream, my grandfather passed away seven years ago. I continued my morning with a bowl of cereal and a kid’s TV show; something about mornings made it acceptable for a teenager to watch animated animals help kids count to five.