| Sweetest Baby |
[Nov. 3rd, 2004|05:57 pm] |
The wintry omen dappled the sky hanging in the November wind, in which people were just quietly impatient. You were cold, lightly trembling in your brown coat, hair tidy under a layer of the night frost. Your bag heavy, heavier with each pace you took, dazzling figures and dignified suits, you wanted your coffee shop.
Coming from far away, coming again, that'd be too much, you say. For a second you wanted to shine like the brightest star, but the town was always too small... You couldn't think, each thought adding your pain on your heart, all your memory and all your doubts and your way of being, just paintings in the sky. Flame, flame, flame, and nothing else. Your passion was all jumping in your stomach, your hands reaching out for the vanity, cranky anger conquering the street.
Sweet baby, terrified soul, was lingering in your last chance, so deep and so sour, down there, you tasting into his smoky mouth tonight. You didn't understand, you didn't know why. Your own obsession, you couldn't settle--haven't found it yet, you say. You still were, though sullied by mind, the sweetest baby, fluttering eyelashes like delicate wings of a firefly, unawar of the stately principle of the universe.
Jesus had been betrayed by Judas for thirty pieces of silver; you betrayed your three months of romance for an abrupt waking. The relish of love, the flesh of hearts, the flood of emotions, you gave them all away. Decadents dont talk--they just hold their attitudes.
You wanna stay alive--you are such a baby with no limitations. They cannot understand your freedom, your type of happiness, your cold your warm your spicy, you are just too much of a human being--you were born from nowhere. Yes you were cold, so you were hugged by evil's reverie, your veins jammed with phobias. You won't remember, you just croon in a dreaming land and everything just magic creations to fill you own greed.
Ocean deep sky high, you had been there, somehow. No, you wouldn't deny your sin. |
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