_______________________________________________ _________________ \_ __ \_ \ / \ / \_ \ | __/ ____/ \ | \| | __/ _| |/ / = \| |/ = \| / | ___/_ _ | | | /___ _ \________/___|___\__|_|__/___|___\_____|______/|_| \__|__|\__|_____/|_| ======================== "The name speaks for itself!" ======================== Poetic Rantings http://surf.to/damage_inc damage_inc@disinfo.net =============================================================================== 16 Hours of Hell and Bliss. Writing sixteen hours... exploding in emotional outbursts. Not breaking away from pen and paper. Not wanting to stop and eat, sleep, shave or shower. At times feeling trapped and confined. At others, it's bliss. A paradox... like the world in nirvana perpetually amiss. Ironic that I even choose to do this. Cliches fill my head as it aches for rest. Caught between a rock and a hard place. Looking up at the sheer rock face... of majestic mountains. Standing tall but feeling so utterly small... at its brooding base. There I go... off on a tangent again. Ranting on pages. Releasing energy relentlessly. When will this bliss come to an abrupt end? Will this be the final hour? So very weary now... So overpowered. Time bends. Night is eclipsed by day... usurped by dawn. In the sixteenth hour I finally give in. Sleep awaits. The moment has passed. I miss the feeling that's now only a memory... Gone. With inspiration exhausted... I'm left only with tiredness. Unsatisfied with what I've written. Mind and body feeling like they've somehow been accosted. Sweet words escape me... Lost. But all's well. All's hell. And now I don't feel much like writing. The moment faded away. The words are gone like a fleeting summer. Worn down houses with paint peeling. But oh... how bitter and cold the feeling. Torment so vicious... and biting. And the emptiness so great... Overwhelming words so cruel and slighting. This northern land... of wolf and man... ripping right through me like the hopeless hours. Hours that only inspiration can devour. Will you be there? I'm the one who waits for you... Inspired by truth. I can't breathe. Of blood and pain and sorrow. Terrified. I will sleep now... in the solace of darkness and shadows. And I will put myself through hell again... tomorrow. Endless hours of misery await... without tears or cries. This is what I've felt and known. This is my own private hell. So alone... This is no oasis! Written by BLACKENED / Damage, INC. (C)opyright 2001.