The guards are up and diligent. They're soldiers, and they cannot falter. Their faces are unreadable and blank, like the white canvas of an artist with out a muse, with out a soul, with out a paint brush. The guards do not smile, they do not play, they do not cry. They are the pillars of the mansion. The steel gates of these acres. And the waters secluding these islands. They do not rest nor close their eyes. A simple, single breath from the outside is a threat and the signal for their fingers to let kept. Sharp glances at the corners, at the shadows, and even at the face of their backs. The guards are ruthless and in tact. They hunt for every faults on the pavements, in fact.
But these guards, you see, are those that receive the lost cause set of cards but victor with the faces that they do not have. They are those that receive the royal flush and do not rush to breathe or let the bloods flow gloating. They are concrete and pale. And if you hadn't known, they have swallowed their fears and left them to boil in the pits of their stomachs and the silent pulsating of their temples. Guards cannot exert fear. Therefore they cannot release anything at all or apparently feel anything else. These guards can picture their knees trembling and their palms sweating. They can picture their lips move afraid and their hearts race astray. But guards are at fear. They are always at fear.
A wait for the intruders is the walk you could take down the dark alley with two shadowed figures in front of the light ahead in the end. And goosebumps crawl and linger. And you're nearly jumping out of your clothes and out of your skin and into your eyes where you'd rather be trapped inside your head.
My guards...are so exhausted. I am so exhausted. But I have to know that I'll survive the next time that I get shot. I have to forget that fear and risk it all again. I have to learn how.
One day. One day I will feel this song sink into my bones and flow through my veins where it lets my heart be again. I will feel this infinite again.
"I see you lying next to me.
With words I thought I'd never speak.
Awake and unafraid
Asleep or dead..."
-
PS. I had a very good day today. I really like staying at Ryan's place with The Regulars. It feels like a different home. Like how Ty's house felt back in September 07, my salvaging sanctuary. It feels wonderful laying on a leather couch on a warm day with the murmurs of the sweetest things in my ear.
I'll learn poker better.
But these guards, you see, are those that receive the lost cause set of cards but victor with the faces that they do not have. They are those that receive the royal flush and do not rush to breathe or let the bloods flow gloating. They are concrete and pale. And if you hadn't known, they have swallowed their fears and left them to boil in the pits of their stomachs and the silent pulsating of their temples. Guards cannot exert fear. Therefore they cannot release anything at all or apparently feel anything else. These guards can picture their knees trembling and their palms sweating. They can picture their lips move afraid and their hearts race astray. But guards are at fear. They are always at fear.
A wait for the intruders is the walk you could take down the dark alley with two shadowed figures in front of the light ahead in the end. And goosebumps crawl and linger. And you're nearly jumping out of your clothes and out of your skin and into your eyes where you'd rather be trapped inside your head.
My guards...are so exhausted. I am so exhausted. But I have to know that I'll survive the next time that I get shot. I have to forget that fear and risk it all again. I have to learn how.
One day. One day I will feel this song sink into my bones and flow through my veins where it lets my heart be again. I will feel this infinite again.
"I see you lying next to me.
With words I thought I'd never speak.
Awake and unafraid
Asleep or dead..."
-
PS. I had a very good day today. I really like staying at Ryan's place with The Regulars. It feels like a different home. Like how Ty's house felt back in September 07, my salvaging sanctuary. It feels wonderful laying on a leather couch on a warm day with the murmurs of the sweetest things in my ear.
I'll learn poker better.
