Interesting song. Leaked quality but I know ya’ll thirsty for it.
the nostalgia killed me tonight. I went home, but it didn’t feel right. It didn’t feel special. The memories were there, and people were glad to see they were still a part of me, but I didn’t get a good feeling from them. I feel.. pretty sad here… I miss some things, but I don’t think I need them.. but I am sad.. about something..
I lost my “best friend” while I was on pain medication and now, even after it has worn off, I still feel nothing.
I went to a poetry reading last night while I had a horrible headache with body pains. Whenever I get ill and try to sleep, I get really imaginative dreams. Here’s this one:
I was in a dark room of some sort, a basement of some place unknown to me. Each of us took our turn and spoke on the podium, showing no fear as we verbalized our greatest feats, fears, disasters, and vanity in spoken word poetry.
Every word you spoke made you lose a part of yourself. Every sentence you released to the world made you more into a ghost.
When a person was done speaking, they were sent to the back. I peeked through to find a girl I have yet to talk to in person, but have seen around campus, as she is in the same club as me. I felt shy and awkward, approaching her I could not seem to find the words. Her skin was pale, almost translucent, with no smile distinguishable from the rest of her face. She looked cloudy. She had already spoken at the podium.
She had a vapor around her, such that when looked at from afar, you would believe her soul was coming out of her. I saw someone pick up some sort of utensil used to cut strong objects. They used it on her body. She was instantly cut by three-fourths of her full body size. What remained of her regenerated with the vapor used as a sort of magic cloak.
I saw her face, she was mine. She seemed free, she seemed new. Every pain she expressed on the mic ceased to exist, only her alter-ego was left. The personality that is hidden inside. She gave me a warm smile, but no words. She seemed almost apathetic to existence before, but now that the white smoke cleared, I could see her face more clearly. She looked indulged in life. I didn’t have time to ponder on it though, seeing as I was next on the podium.
I approached, I spoke, I vented, I lived and died there. After walking off, the same vapor exuded from my flesh. I was sent to the back. I was cut as well. I remember verbalizing all I could, showing myself off as much as I could, giving the world an opening to come and destroy me. I laid out everything I could.
But they only cut me by one-fourth. That’s all they could possibly do for me.