My Mind (Dunnuck's Bloggy Thing)

[Dunnuck]

Indeed....stuff shall be puteth here.

[Dunnuck]

Will you hold my heart in your fragile hands?
I fear this world maybe way to harsh
My eyes' tears could fill a void
Where there was once love
I would rather have a heart, you know
Instead of a shell encompassed by memory
Somehow I allowed myself to change
I couldn't defeat my sorrow

My hands clamped together can't fight the cold
I want someone with me until I grow old
Is it so hard to have you with me?
Had I found you before
I think we could of been together
But I was too jaded by then
My fears had blinded the love
I thought with my head, not my heart

When the rain fell on my dreams
I was convinced I'd drown
But somewhere along the way
I realize I lost my dreams
My world was now a nightmare
And slowly that rain turned to ice
Still in that cold, I seen your face
As I reached for you, you vanished before me

I set off into the dark
A quest of isolation
I must find myself again
Hopefully by then, you can forgive me
You must stay behind
I never intended it to be this way
But sometimes time can't heal a wound
Someday I will have a sound soul

[Dunnuck]

Right next to you

I'll be your love, I'll be your faith
Even if your eyes can't see the way
Sometimes it takes darkness to know day
Life can be painful, be that as it may
Your hole is deeper than regret
Your position can not be reset
Push on forward, and I promise I'm there

You'll find a way
I know you'll be okay
The fight was lost yesterday
But this isn't yesterday
Right?

I'll be your light, I wont make you feel alone
Even if you drift from your dreams
Its hard to hold on, but Its only harder than it seems
No one is perfect, but your perfect enough for me
If yesterday could fade away, we'd just repeat
Our faults make us strong, I am yours to keep
In this ever changing world, I will remain
Always here to hold You through your pain
Keep pushing forward, I promise I'll be there

You'll find a way
I know you'll be OK
The fight was lost yesterday
But this isn't yesterday
Right?

I'll be your love, I'll be your light
In the end, I'll make sure your alright
Whether You know how I feel or not
Despite if You see how close I am

You'll find a way
I know you'll be OK
The fight was lost yesterday
But this isn't yesterday
Right?

[Dunnuck]

Took the following two ramblings from my Facebook notes. I encourage comments!


Love Part 1

Few know the meaning of it. But its conventional use is more if a commodity than anything now. So is it that most don't understand it, or few don't understand it? A word is a word. Definitions can change. "Love" is a title inaccurately put to a feeling that is largely indescribable by words. Its a frail attempt at conveying emotions in a simple, lazy way. It is a commodity; often used to reach "home base" or get something. However, some use the word appropriately, though, I will admit. In the wrong ways, though. Love as a friend. Love as a family member. Surely there is a word for the other kind of love. The "I can't breathe when im around You" love or the "I can't stop thinking of You" love. Or perhaps the "I could list what I like about you instead of just simply saying your beautiful" love. Surely there is a word, a simplification, for that. Truth is there isn't. Best part about this little note? You will never know who it refers to. You will never know if I am stricken by love, loveless, or in love. This is a rant without an emotion, leaving this to be an analysis of the simplified emotion deemed "Love".

Love part 2

Love is cosmetic. Regardless of what anyone says, 'Love' is only invoked and acted upon by external means. Occasionally, and honestly I should be saying rarely, 'Love' is invoked by something pure or meaningful. And sometimes both. One can preach all they want, declaring the opposite of this view, this truth, to be true to them. But this overused and misunderstood word 'Truth' rarely comes out of the subject's mouth. Normally its a biased lie, made true by someone's own morality.

But the truth is that 'Love', at it's Genesis, is cosmetic. One could overflow with intelligence and depth, though because of outward appearance, no one would tap into that depth for a long, long time. For the subject of this, the wait is an ironic eternity. 'I just want a nice guy' says a girl or 'I just want a nice girl' says Guy, though they never make an attempt to find that person. Those people are broken, and when they are fractured and torn asunder to the core, the person that is right for them is overshadowed. Its the one that puts them back together thats right for them. You may be thinking 'I am that person that is overshadowed', but before you state this as the biased lie You call truth, review yourself. And honestly try to believe what you are thinking. Don't force a lie to become truth.

The words 'Love' and 'Truth' are both overused placeholders to make yourself feel better. But of course it doesn't apply to the whole. However, the small percentage that it DOESNT apply to go unknown, so I should say everyone is a liar without true knowledge of 'Love' and 'Truth'. But Liars, don't you all worry. One day the truth will hit you and you will miss That person That was always there for you. You will miss that person that really loved you. You will miss that person that tells you the truth.

I love you. But you will never know. Because I wont tell you; I want you to see this truth, the real truth, for yourself.

Next note: Envy. The Unknown hate a lot of people in a way. Not because of who you are but because of a warped jealousy, melded and designed by the evil known as hate.

[Dunnuck]

Macabre

The smell of the corpse rotting now, all alone
And the sound of the passed, deadly whisper
When it crumbles to dirt, giving life to us all
It is then that we know, it's a circle
Macabre

The complexities of deviant, defiant ones, are to hard describe without screams
It is frustrating, the camera out of focus, the eyes unable to see some things
Sometimes emotion is a mirror we will glance in but only do it time to time
Combine two filters to make just one sense, and the world would be so much simpler
Death is a gift, you know, but not to the ones we think
'Cause in our death our actions live on
And all of the words we said and moments we spent lingering
They all will be revered and cherished
Macabre

The complexities of life after death are philosophies that we cant explain
Unless you change the meaning of life and death then, you will look and will find nothing
In a memory, ideal and teaching, the late can still be on time
Because the things we learned from them will most likely help us sometimes
"Don't even think about leaving me in this place.
Alone, without you here with me is so cold."
That is a phrase that most people are familiar with
It is funny but, do they know the concept?

The smell of the corpse rotting now, all alone
And the sound of the passed, deadly whisper
When it crumbles to dirt, giving life to us all
It is then that we know, it's a circle
Macabre

Hold me tight for the few last breathes deep in your lungs
With your hands clasping shut, they are freezing
Your life, in my mind, on rewind as you die
And then when you are gone I'll replay it
Fight my

(Sins) Smell of the corpse rotting now, all alone
And the sound of the passed, deadly whisper
When it crumbles to dirt, giving life to us all
It is then that we know, it's a circle
Macabre

Not done yet :P

[Dunnuck]

Parted down the middle? Split three ways? In four sections? In parts and pieces?

Why are my interests so scattered? Why can't I refocus my camera on objectives that matter? Is my fate a dooming disaster? Or maybe its gloom coming faster and faster. I can flow all my words and create my own worlds, I can own an idea and debate and allure. But...still

I find it hard to create what I created. An idea is an idea and so often it faded. I say that im back and my work is anew, but then its on the backburner, another story to do. "Oh your so great", "This stuff is creative", "Your still so young, I can't believe that you made it". I made it, I wrote it, I thought the whole plot, I linked all the segments that others forgot. I played the piano, beauty at ear, but I own not an instrument, which rattles my fear. You can praise me, hate me, salivates over my work, but in the end my minds bruised, fractured and hurt. It seems That I cannot finish What I start, I start an idea and I quickly depart from the art and I start another, in part, but still....

I had nothing to show for myself.