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• 1986-03-18
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• 2007-05-14
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• Student/Slave
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• Raiha

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• Turning Oxygen Into Carbon Dioxide
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myOtaku.com: Neuvoxraiha


Sunday, June 17, 2007

   Swinging.
Just like being alone, I am single again.
Fun isn't it, with the crying and the sobbing and the agony.
Losing isn't the best of feelings, and the twisting in my stomach is the first sign.
That I'm in for it again.
Ice the heart over so nobody knows.
Feel the sting that burrows under the flesh.

Dull it, have to dull it, with rum.
And vodka, and beer, and cider, and anything left out.
With a double shot glass, I take myself out.
Feel the warmth ripple in the stomach.
Sear the throat on the way down.
Rend the chest apart, feel the warmth coursing through the veins.
Reach for the salt, have to get rid of the taste.

Feeling it muttering in the back of my throat.
Tears that choke and rend and rip the heart out.
I feel broken and empty and drained and soulless.
Ice the heart over so nobody knows that I'm drowning myself.
Two shots in, I double over and wonder.
Why my vision keeps blurring over.
Looking through a watery world it finally dawns on me.

And I burst into the endless cycle of tears and frustration and emptiness that drowns out my protests. Instead of alcohol I cry the salty tears that remind me my heart isn't ice yet. Have to dull the pain. Empty it out. Purge the thoughts. Purge the feelings. Fight that lonely feeling that settles in. With Led Zeppelin and Seagram, I'll come back up swinging. They tell me I'm strong.

My friends tell me I am strong.
That I can pursue the goal without wavering.
But hell I am wavering.
The alcohol reminds me.
That I have to dull the pain and the taste and the sting and the sorrow.
And I will come up swinging.

I am me after all.
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