Настроение сейчас - Misery Loves Company
I could have written another poem, so entancingly cryptic, so delightfully resentful, so never-to-move-you.
But I won't.
I'd rather devote myself to myself.
I'm no Pauline after all.
Настроение сейчас - Self-Ironically: Sure Nobody Misses Me
I refuse to start speculating on how it is you hand in hand with discontent that ignite fervent self-expressing and desperate activity in human beings, as seeking out universal truths is as unlike myself as operating bound by realism. What I do intend to do is spilling small quantity of you unto long-neglected pages and watching it being absorbed in order to establish your estimated depth.
It would have been so much easier and more reassuring if I could rely on someone else's ways mirroring mine so that to soothe myself with faith in the periodical law of... states of relationship. But... unfortunately for myself, I guess, I'm too self-centred to grasp others personality which leaves me in constant wondering, though generally unharmful in fact and in prospect. And now this... this uncertainty, that preamble... they leave me restless like a spectre bound to neither suitable options with as much to do as exposing you, Misery, to the open, knowing that hardly any eyes would care to bare these letters, glad for my little drama to pass unnoticed, and yet dreading both.
Oh my dear sweet inspiring Misery, skipped heartbeats, sleepless hours, resurrected Dreaming, feel of flow of life itself I owe to you, I do, but... hell it hurts! Will I never be given Blood Red roses again, a passion, an emotion in all its diversity? Will I leave my exeptional cove to mingle with the vast sea of others, unforgivable, insignificant, dull and not stirring any interest?Will I have to settle for calm chill of Snow White blossoms, a sensual indifference, pure reason and respect in better case? More important, will HE settle for that? What is He planning to do or what is He executing His will already? Has He armoured himself with my unconcious advice and started what is to be a painless severance? Why, damn, why? What have I done wrong?Am I to blame at all? If not, then egocentrical perception (the best developed one of mine) is not to solve any of this and I'm only to wait and smat scrapes of space with inarticulate questioning. Who am I kidding now, I manage to bore even myself...
Well, I reckon that's a cheery enough thought to end with.
Sleep tight, Meself. Damn you, Misery, and Bless you.
Sincerely yours,
K.
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Настроение сейчас - Triumphant
Tale Loses its Fairy
Shush me quiet - I'll think twice
Ever to endevour;
Yawn at a dream to cut out "lies"
From the land of "never";
Succeed few times to analyze
The vile behind my virtues;
Shame sanctity you so despise
Along sincerity of mine - it does
Wear off to a disguise.
Establish all the wrongs and rights -
And I'm unfit for any,
Will-o'the-whisps are faulty lights:
Miraze is not uncanny.
Decree the flaws of my believes -
Dread raises to apply them,
Question sense in beloved myths -
Confused be striking venom.
Uncharm, uncrown, undo, unwill...!
And I'm reduced to norma.
Air can be captured when it's still -
Disordered fancy's coma.
Scorn every stroke for imperfection
Ever so slight - the brush halts dead,
Yet cultivate this weird affection
By means I can't recall, to an extent I can't forget.
Seek "me" in erronous spaces,
Disregard all the clue facets,
Strip me down to ordinary -
And the tale has lost it's fairy.
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