@neonscribbles.bsky.social
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electronic diary
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строки - сплошь бред, куплет - постыда
и лишь одна тому причина - звон не перебивает мысль

но что-то, ещё тише,
почти неслышно издаёт
из сердца жалобные звуки
— "хочу увидеть тебя вновь"
незаконченное

становится твой звон всё глуше и отдаёт осенним ветром
упавшей на пол парой книг, земля становится всё суше
лживый поэт - ивой поник, глаза раскрыл, не может спать
теперь все сны его - виденья. накопленная ложь.
no one i know makes me forget
no one i meet makes me forget
i do not belong in this world,
and when you are gone, i have no one to tell.
i started hating everyone, and people became indifferent in return, because really, why wouldn't they? i spent so much time trying to figure out what's exactly that is wrong with me, but now that i'm sick of it, i am sick indeed.
friendship used to be easy, (it never was) the illusion was there though, because people attached themselves to me like flies at the opportunity to be understood. now i can't even provide that understanding because for some reason i just don't "get it" anymore.
there is never a place for someone like me, at least not "me". it's always i don't get it, i don't get it, i don't get it, i creep them out, i'm charming, but "weird", and it's starting to seep into everything; how i view myself, how i interact with people.
i lost everyone i care about, meaning, there are people around me, but i lost any interest in them, as i feel like nothing is even tangential to me. it's always things that i don't understand, humor that i don't understand, love that i don't understand.
when you're gone, i have no one to tell:

i have always been a deeply selfish individual, which i think of again, as having no genuine emotional connection to anyone or anything makes me want to end my life at the slightest chance.
he fills the air, he loudly breathes
his breath uneven
and your mind ticks

you wait for something to happen.
there's no room for being obvious it seems
he knocks on your door, your window
but you don't want to see anything of him
it's like the thought of him haunts you

the man that you cannot predict
a figure full of contradictions
he waits outside, he counts the weeks
got three bottles of wine
three empty packs of cigarettes
and i don't know how many promises
so kiss me now or it's too late
i've got the world all over me
the hottest man alive, that's me
i'm so on fire i got blisters on my face
two empty packs of cigarettes.
so anyway, my resume
a fancy car, a house, a name...
i've got big dreams, the once you've seen
on that tv show that you liked
got three bottles of wine
empty pack of cigarettes
ninety nine promises
and you, baby, you
don't listen what some others say
i'm all yours, at least today
so seize your chance, and take my hand
battre le fer qui'il est chaud