Diary of a Human Read Online Free
Author: Eliza Lentzski
words I long to say.
2.8//c ontested geography
I never did like geography. War torn countries, changing borders, unpronounceable capitals and innumerable dead seas. Ever changing as the cycles of mother moon. And now I'm haunted by geography; the distance that tears us apart.
Tears fall and I long to be the only one to comfort you, kiss the salty offenders away and curse them to take their leave of you. There is no pain when you are near, sav e the ever present geography.
You are angelic, sacred, blessed, religiously divine. Your wings have been bruised from numerous spirals from your home in the heavens, but when I am with you I feel our joint return to that sky.
The lobsters in this tank claw my ankles and beg my return to a watery grave of stoicism, but on your wings I am saved. I can't go back, never go back, teetering on the thin line of my salvation. Gentle words of love and encouragement remove my blinders. I onc e was blind, but now can see.
You are the idol I worship and make the gods mad with jealousy at such a display of devout devotion. I want no other religion than you.
2.9//a woman sits
A woman sits in darkness, squinting as the embers burn down to calloused finger tips, biting but painless. But nothing flames like the feelings in her heart. Nothing burns like this unforeseen fire in her soul. Her head is heavy from paper factories and traffic and far-off train whistles corrupt the silence of this moment.
A woman sits in darkness, an eerie glow from a computer past its prime, waiting for a message, waiting for a sign to know she is loved. She never has enough words herself; can never verbalize the billions of thoughts and emotions swimming through the space between her ears.
But the prose keep drip, dripping off her fingers, overflowing the page with words of Want and Desire for an angel just out of grasp.
2.10//r estless flight
I feel restless, crazy, mad, unnerved, moving without stopping, craving, desperate for the touch denied. The body cannot live on bread alone. I hear her voice and it is never enough. I see her picture and it moves me; I am always moving. To see that smile, hear that laugh, touch soft tendrils between nervous fingers, drink in her scent and feel her body laying next to mine.
My world has been altered these past few weeks, priorities shifted and futures unseen. The crystal ball, once so clear is now fogged over with the haze of a love that burns deeper than any before. The lines of my hands are in constant motion and even the wisest of gypsies is per plexed when fists unclench.
I cannot find my peace nor seek any rest. The wheels are always moving and the voices never silence. White walls bring no comfort as I bounce from moment to moment, a ball of teeming energy. Potential cannot be lost nor gained. If I change these walls high around my fortress than perhaps I will escape, but the laundry piles up and the holy men chant their praises.
I creep out to the farthest branch and sway in time with the blowing wind. I will not grow old in this place, but these wings ar e new and unsteady in flight.
I am too soggy for flight, but it is nearly dawn.
2.11//my h eart
This is my heart and this is my plea. I kept this fragile muscle locked fast in an impenetrable box of Doubt and Cynicism. It grew fat from the lack of fresh air, undernourished forgetting the sensation of sunlight. Shrouded with Fear it lay dormant, un - beating, unfeeling for many lifetimes. This heart is an heirloom to be passed on to my descendants, unblemished and un - bruised.
But you have snapped the lid, you have shaken the contents with a jolt and I am clinging for my life. Now the blood flows fresh and freely and each incision cuts deep to fleshy tissue and miles of nerve endings. I am bathing in my blood and the warmth I feel may soon grow cold with the stench of death.
But I pray you now to mind these fragile contents; for I know not what I'd do with a broken
2.8//c ontested geography
I never did like geography. War torn countries, changing borders, unpronounceable capitals and innumerable dead seas. Ever changing as the cycles of mother moon. And now I'm haunted by geography; the distance that tears us apart.
Tears fall and I long to be the only one to comfort you, kiss the salty offenders away and curse them to take their leave of you. There is no pain when you are near, sav e the ever present geography.
You are angelic, sacred, blessed, religiously divine. Your wings have been bruised from numerous spirals from your home in the heavens, but when I am with you I feel our joint return to that sky.
The lobsters in this tank claw my ankles and beg my return to a watery grave of stoicism, but on your wings I am saved. I can't go back, never go back, teetering on the thin line of my salvation. Gentle words of love and encouragement remove my blinders. I onc e was blind, but now can see.
You are the idol I worship and make the gods mad with jealousy at such a display of devout devotion. I want no other religion than you.
2.9//a woman sits
A woman sits in darkness, squinting as the embers burn down to calloused finger tips, biting but painless. But nothing flames like the feelings in her heart. Nothing burns like this unforeseen fire in her soul. Her head is heavy from paper factories and traffic and far-off train whistles corrupt the silence of this moment.
A woman sits in darkness, an eerie glow from a computer past its prime, waiting for a message, waiting for a sign to know she is loved. She never has enough words herself; can never verbalize the billions of thoughts and emotions swimming through the space between her ears.
But the prose keep drip, dripping off her fingers, overflowing the page with words of Want and Desire for an angel just out of grasp.
2.10//r estless flight
I feel restless, crazy, mad, unnerved, moving without stopping, craving, desperate for the touch denied. The body cannot live on bread alone. I hear her voice and it is never enough. I see her picture and it moves me; I am always moving. To see that smile, hear that laugh, touch soft tendrils between nervous fingers, drink in her scent and feel her body laying next to mine.
My world has been altered these past few weeks, priorities shifted and futures unseen. The crystal ball, once so clear is now fogged over with the haze of a love that burns deeper than any before. The lines of my hands are in constant motion and even the wisest of gypsies is per plexed when fists unclench.
I cannot find my peace nor seek any rest. The wheels are always moving and the voices never silence. White walls bring no comfort as I bounce from moment to moment, a ball of teeming energy. Potential cannot be lost nor gained. If I change these walls high around my fortress than perhaps I will escape, but the laundry piles up and the holy men chant their praises.
I creep out to the farthest branch and sway in time with the blowing wind. I will not grow old in this place, but these wings ar e new and unsteady in flight.
I am too soggy for flight, but it is nearly dawn.
2.11//my h eart
This is my heart and this is my plea. I kept this fragile muscle locked fast in an impenetrable box of Doubt and Cynicism. It grew fat from the lack of fresh air, undernourished forgetting the sensation of sunlight. Shrouded with Fear it lay dormant, un - beating, unfeeling for many lifetimes. This heart is an heirloom to be passed on to my descendants, unblemished and un - bruised.
But you have snapped the lid, you have shaken the contents with a jolt and I am clinging for my life. Now the blood flows fresh and freely and each incision cuts deep to fleshy tissue and miles of nerve endings. I am bathing in my blood and the warmth I feel may soon grow cold with the stench of death.
But I pray you now to mind these fragile contents; for I know not what I'd do with a broken
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