The Wanderer
Kid A
bleed.
feeling like you die
more than time
will actually permit.
with each day
I feel it slipping
pieces falling
missing your arms
as they slide away
trip me, push me down
tear off another bit of flesh
take my blood
make a blanket
for the dying flesh
let it drain the sun
dried-up and gone
I am less + less
with yesterdays turning in their grave
I am gone.
am I gone?
peel the scabs off your skin
wash me away,
please.
please let me have my rest
let me soak up the rain
one last time,
as if it were
the sun, or a tear
or a bit of blood, maybe
to remind you
that I lived + breathed
and I bleed,
oh do I bleed
~
I justed wanted to thank all of you over the last year who have been so kind and thoughtful in your responses to my posts here in Dream Out Loud. I have bared my soul many of times in these outer edges of interference, and, well... I am sorry if maybe that has to end, at least for me, because I don't really feel all that comfortable doing it anymore, and I'm very upset and sad about that, because now these things will stay locked up inside and the secret pages will be closed, with no one to turn them
I guess I'm just trying to say thank you and goodbye, I'll keep reading other posts (although no one seems to have any these days and many old friends have grown weary and reluctant)
thanks again, it's meant a lot to me the past year, you have know idea, I think I shall sleep now, goodnight
bye!!!
------------------
For the eyeing of my scars, there is a charge
For the hearing of my heart---
It really goes.
And there is a charge, a very large charge
For a word or a touch
Or a bit of blood
-Sylvia Plath
[This message has been edited by The Wanderer (edited 08-29-2001).]
feeling like you die
more than time
will actually permit.
with each day
I feel it slipping
pieces falling
missing your arms
as they slide away
trip me, push me down
tear off another bit of flesh
take my blood
make a blanket
for the dying flesh
let it drain the sun
dried-up and gone
I am less + less
with yesterdays turning in their grave
I am gone.
am I gone?
peel the scabs off your skin
wash me away,
please.
please let me have my rest
let me soak up the rain
one last time,
as if it were
the sun, or a tear
or a bit of blood, maybe
to remind you
that I lived + breathed
and I bleed,
oh do I bleed
~
I justed wanted to thank all of you over the last year who have been so kind and thoughtful in your responses to my posts here in Dream Out Loud. I have bared my soul many of times in these outer edges of interference, and, well... I am sorry if maybe that has to end, at least for me, because I don't really feel all that comfortable doing it anymore, and I'm very upset and sad about that, because now these things will stay locked up inside and the secret pages will be closed, with no one to turn them
I guess I'm just trying to say thank you and goodbye, I'll keep reading other posts (although no one seems to have any these days and many old friends have grown weary and reluctant)
thanks again, it's meant a lot to me the past year, you have know idea, I think I shall sleep now, goodnight
bye!!!
------------------
For the eyeing of my scars, there is a charge
For the hearing of my heart---
It really goes.
And there is a charge, a very large charge
For a word or a touch
Or a bit of blood
-Sylvia Plath
[This message has been edited by The Wanderer (edited 08-29-2001).]
