.infinitesimally.narcissistic.: .perfect.stranger.

.preview.

Alone
by: Edgar Allan Poe

From childhood's hour I have not been
As others were; I have not seen
As others saw; I could not bring
My passions from a common spring.

From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow; I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone;
And all I loved, I loved alone.

Then- in my childhood, in the dawn
Of a most stormy life- was drawn
From every depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still:

From the torrent, or the fountain,
From the red cliff of the mountain,
From the sun that round me rolled
In its autumn tint of gold,

From the lightning in the sky
As it passed me flying by,
From the thunder and the storm,
And the cloud that took the form
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view.

Monday, April 16, 2007

.perfect.stranger.

Well my girl's in the next room

Sometimes I wish she was you

I guess we never really moved on

It's really good to hear your voice say my name

It sounds so sweet

Coming from the lips of an angel

Hearing those words it makes me weak

And I never wanna say goodbye

But girl you make it hard to be faithful

With the lips of an angel
-excerpts from Lips of An Angel by Hinder...

This is for you...

You looked at me from afar, and I dare not stare. Your sweet sweet presence- like harbour lights from the pier. I see nothing else but you, I hear nothing but you, I feel nothing. I just feel nothing. I choose to. As I decided to crept away from your voice calling me, I saw myself in the midst of you. You asked me, I refused. I wasn't ready. I wanted to know more... about you, about me, about anyone else. But all I knew was that I wanted to. The way you make me feel something; a familiar sensation much like what I felt when I was sober. I lost the feeling. And then... I lost you...

Alone, in the middle of it all, I stood. Looking up at the starry night sky, with a tear falling. From all these years, all this time, it was just you. But again, I choose not to. Not because I didn't want to. Not because I didn't needed to. Not because because I wasn't infatuated, humiliated or even beaten up by the temptation you pou into my veins. So weak. So null. So timid.

I suddenly felt another. I was in the midst of another. The feeling, all over again. But something different. It was without, the perfect stranger...