Whoo hoo!
Halloween 10/31/11
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Monday, October 31, 2011
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
Saturday, October 22, 2011
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
Saturday, October 15, 2011
Monday, October 10, 2011
It bothers me how I've taken so much from someone and now, after a fight for lack of a better word, I feel as if I have given nothing. And now lost it all. All I can do is ask for forgiveness. That's it. Not complete trust, just forgivness. It hurts to give that. I start to think about the old him. The one he said I don't know. Was that it? Blah. Does it matter? Does anything we've done matter? Its all been words and glances. But the words so meaningful. And the glaces long enough to remember. When he dies what will I do? There's relief in death because you know that person will never come back. There is none in this isolation because you know that person is out there. Usually a slash on the wrist would have fixed it and given me an excuse to hide. Now there is none. All I can do is wait and try and be hopeful. Hopeful that time will mend this, that I can mend this.
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Thursday, October 6, 2011
Wallow In Division. Ian Curtis Poem. Final
Wallow in Division
Margaret Middlebrooks final draft
You died before I spoke my first words,
Dead to the eyes of the living before I was forced into the world,
Ian you should mean absolutely nothing to me,
You mean everything.
I shouldn’t want to touch your face and look into those eyes.
The eyes of isolation.
So blue;
So clear.
I shouldn’t want to be near your voice,
The voice that carries souls of lost children,
To the divisions of their own personal hells,
Then leave us there to rot for awhile.
I’m waiting for the day you can come and take me away.
I’ve been waiting for a guide to come and take me by the hand.
Because it makes me feel the pleasures of a normal man.
Those words, your words, fill my trembling body.
Physicality isn’t needed for you now.
Just tossed away your flesh and bone,
Like a phoenix rising from ash.
Now you are the stars.
Margaret Middlebrooks final draft
You died before I spoke my first words,
Dead to the eyes of the living before I was forced into the world,
Ian you should mean absolutely nothing to me,
You mean everything.
I shouldn’t want to touch your face and look into those eyes.
The eyes of isolation.
So blue;
So clear.
I shouldn’t want to be near your voice,
The voice that carries souls of lost children,
To the divisions of their own personal hells,
Then leave us there to rot for awhile.
I’m waiting for the day you can come and take me away.
I’ve been waiting for a guide to come and take me by the hand.
Because it makes me feel the pleasures of a normal man.
Those words, your words, fill my trembling body.
Physicality isn’t needed for you now.
Just tossed away your flesh and bone,
Like a phoenix rising from ash.
Now you are the stars.
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
Ian draft 2
For Better or For Worse
Margaret Middlebrooks draft 2
You died before I spoke my first words.
Dead to me before I was forced into the world.
Ian you should mean absolutely nothing to me.
But you mean everything.
I shouldn’t want to touch your face and look into those eyes.
The eyes of isolation.
So blue.
So clear.
I shouldn’t want to be near your voice.
The voice that carries the souls of lost children.
To the hollows of their own personal hells.
And then leave us there to rot for awhile.
Different colors,
Different shades.
Duration oh so plain to see.
A loaded gun won’t set you free.
Those words, your words, fill my trembling body..
I’m waiting for the day you can come and take me away.
I’ve been waiting for a guide to come and take me by the hand.
Because it makes me feel the pleasures of a normal man.
Physicality isn’t needed for you.
Just tossed away your flesh and bone,
Like a phoenix rising from ash.
Now you are the stars.
For better or for worse.
Margaret Middlebrooks draft 2
You died before I spoke my first words.
Dead to me before I was forced into the world.
Ian you should mean absolutely nothing to me.
But you mean everything.
I shouldn’t want to touch your face and look into those eyes.
The eyes of isolation.
So blue.
So clear.
I shouldn’t want to be near your voice.
The voice that carries the souls of lost children.
To the hollows of their own personal hells.
And then leave us there to rot for awhile.
Different colors,
Different shades.
Duration oh so plain to see.
A loaded gun won’t set you free.
Those words, your words, fill my trembling body..
I’m waiting for the day you can come and take me away.
I’ve been waiting for a guide to come and take me by the hand.
Because it makes me feel the pleasures of a normal man.
Physicality isn’t needed for you.
Just tossed away your flesh and bone,
Like a phoenix rising from ash.
Now you are the stars.
For better or for worse.
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