Inside me, you silently die. I am cold, torn apart. Forgotten – you move aside. I resume my dying.

On the cold ground exposed – I am inexistent. My breathing is false. My soul is demised. 

My eyes, they gave out. Weeping and scorning my flesh. Persist I care not to resist. I am – I am bare and distraught. Do not please, I am, I have already been deceased.

Resume breathing for me, I am end.

 

Life. Living. Dead.

Pleasure me with anguish, and spit.

Bleeding, I am tortured.

Young we were, I still – shamefully- breathe.

Does it matter, if you never cared?

Spare me the subtitles, I ache.

I am your waste.

Dispensed from your rigid grip.

Seize and let me exist.

Let go, release.

I am and will be.

Alone.

In shreds.

“Do you love me?…”

I exist.

For you,

my with Love.

-Battle Field

older now.

My alternate plan.

…..

till then, goodbye.

honestly, thats all i can say what more can i explain.

end. finish. 5alas.

i love writing, i love english but i cant make words and project the last moments.

ending….rolling credits

This was our raw destruction , as our hearts refined. Yours skipped the soulful rhythmic beats, mine was normal – beating soundly. You leaned against me in anguish, as I lay there desperate, begging you ‘release me’. End it, end this. But you resumed confining and abusing my skin. You lashed, grazed and stained my now pale flesh. You claimed I evoked and yielded for this fate.

I slapped you, you say it was a caress to your cheek. I struggle now, you strangle (uneasy lust unleashing desire) me. Your make-believe love, a fragment I choose to halt. Now you stand back, eyes in blaze as your fingers assessed facts – I’m more bitter, you’re deprived and once again I left you unsatisfied.

Distraught, you end. A shame, I ended long before our hearts collided…

this is fiction, but for you, yes you, this is ‘your’ life story.

I will let all the lyrics of others speak my words. Do not enjoy.

” Well I looked my demons in the eye , Laid bare my chest said do your best destory me. See I’ve been to hell and back so many times, I must admit you kinda bore me. If you’d just be kind to me, Now I’d walk one mile on just broken glass To fall down at your feet. “

🙄

I’m holding on your rope,
Got me ten feet off the ground
I’m hearin what you say but I just can’t make a sound
You tell me that you need me
Then you go and cut me down, but wait
You tell me that you’re sorry
Didn’t think I’d turn around, and say…

-One Republic ~ apologize

 

Today is the day everything is settled. It’s the day I can no longer gaze and find the scenery breathtaking and/or logically appleasing. It’s a damn shame but I guess there is some gain. Whatever is to come, I must becareful cause if all ends well lives will be in my hands. I’m not assured that I can take it if god forbids something happens in the clutches of my hand. There’s no rewind, playback or pause navigation I can acquire – to save me.

Life tries to steer you this way while you try your earnest to clutch the brakes – it’s useless. Dont fight the knowledge and gearing of physics. Enough with my bullshit, I will just end my post on this side of the cliff. I’m going to experience my first driving lesson. The plus side is there’s to be two steering wheels and sets of everything and what not, so if something does go wrong he’ll save me. aye?

let the picture speak my thousand words…

48 hours until I am free- when spring break officially sedates me. I feel as if any moment, I will collapse. Frail, weak and barely rested, I am forced to endure the next 2 days with the least amount of tranquility.

Before Spring Break this is due: I have to do a physics lab – finish my sketchbook – put last touches on my oil painting (pray it dries and the rain will not sabatoge my efforts) – english essay – oh and try to get in at least 5 hours of sleep in those 48 that I have to live through.

Anyone willing to switch lives, or best of all, let me borrow your spare hours. I am swamped. All I am waiting for is that moment I finally erupt.

I can’t utter a word let alone whisper a phrase.

My voice, when I try to speak my throat burns.

I am hating this discomfort but take in the pain surpisingly well but how long can I last?

Might as well add that my running nose is begining its marathon so damn it all, a headache and elevating my sickness is waiting. Why, just why when this entire week is all tests.

Argh.

I have a pathetic fear and it’s come true or so it seems. In the literal and physical aspect of it, I’m losing sight. I see a blur, I see the haze and most of all your face is disfigured. That oddly pleases me. But I long not to wear a mask and hide behind it receding to my fate. Damn, ooops, **** and ****. Life goes on and I think you have. So my vision’s no longer of importance and….nothing less.

PS. Being blind considers me weak and so I understand now why you stand behind the mark and watch from the sidelines as I dally with fate, I owe  you a thanks and I thank God I need no longer to look at your despicable face.

I’m well – moderately well. I’ll be better if your words stopped echoing on my flesh. I’ll be better if my stomach stopped tingling of pain because those shards of glass you spread on my skin are embedding. It’s working but you promised the feeling rages for an hour then calms, that’s when I’ll be well again. **** your promise! My flesh is pale and you resume rubbing your palm against my hand. I chew on my lips biting back the pain. But crimson red leaks amidst this torture you promised would do me well. You promised it wouldn’t hurt for long? Didn’t you promise I’d be cured? It was another one of your lies. I should have never trusted a liar like you. Serves me well.

I’m numb now, and your promise was unkept…

I’m well again.

Her hand quakes as the beating in her heart elevates. A mass of unshed tears began to mist her eyes. A growing sensation wonders and the mask she once wore crumbles.

It’s over. You’ re a mistake. A figment my muse – a misspelled irrevocable curse. So shed your skin, lather and lash at your breathe as you give into sin. Sit on the cold taunting ground, feel vulnerable. Your heart is split in two and the windows to your soul are fogged. Yet with all you’re in, I feel not a thing. Again, nothing at all. An empty and void feeling – stale as you broke apart.

Her heart stings Her lips dry. Her voice is mute and her breathing stops. His words dagger into her heart. She lies motionless on the ground.

She died before him, but he just walked away.

The scene ends all but lacking hate.

 

I’m eighteen today. It’s my birthday!

It feels like any other kind of day.

Nose is cold, Throat is throbbing and Voice is muting….(i,m dead tired even after yesterday’s sleep from 5pm to 9am today)

I guess I’ll just wait and see how the day turns out to be….

           Love,

                A Battlefield Eighteen AWAITING your something.