spider from mars give to me your uncried tears
and i'll cry them for you
i'll let them drip from my eyes
i'll cry them until i am covered in a mess of liquid.
then you can run through the meadows of bliss like you've always wanted to.
you'll be free,
you'll finally be free.
Syrope are what hurt me more than anything... the fact that i obviously don't hurt you as much as you hurt me. 020313
gull if i gave you
my uncried tears,
you'd feel the pain
and frustration
when the liquid thickens,
like cement,
and you find that
your eyes are clogged up.

then you'd never
be able to
shed the tears
you want to shed,
that you *need* to shed
if you are to stay sane
in this insane
world of ours.

they'd hurt your eyes,
my uncried tears,
and god knows
i don't want you to hurt
anymore than you already do.
but thank you for thinking
of my uncried tears.
my uncried tears thank you.
silentbob keep_it_like_a_secret 020313
bryanfrbs aren't uncried tears just sweat? 020313
lycanthrope i'm not so good at being serious,
i'm not really that good at being funny either.
In fact most of my humor comes from the fact that i am serious,
but no one believes me.
If i cried, they might crack up in hysterics. Or maybe they'd think i was just going too far for a laugh.
People get annoyed with clowns when they do that. Somewhere blame is misplaced. This is the closest i've ever got to a diary entry. Needless to say, i'm ashamed about it. Some allure is lost. Uncried tears are beautiful, rare, not brought into existance, crystalline, something someone has faith in, waits for. But what about the other type...the sordid ones...the ones that set your words back into the context of just being another person saying another thing, not some artist, just a living thing with baggage, with more tools than useful, with words that change nothing, words that smatter through the mind like an electric pinball and then echo into the air and fall short, cannot help but fall short, because no one understands like you do. Words that are art only because they do little else, except for when they do, and that is a fine moment, a fair tradeoff for hours of solitude right? And yeah, i try too hard. And i want to let go, and i want to read or go climb trees or not be bothered, to be amongst a world that lets me spell my answers out as slowly as i jump from stone to stone across a creek. But i need you. I need all of you. So i immerse myself amongst the confusion of so many worlds, and i face the possiblity that communication isn't happening. And i don't cry unless it's what you want. And i forget i even have tears that weren't requested.
yummychuckle your uncried tears
all come out on a sunday afternoon.
they've been waiting years
wearing springs on their feet
and the tears boundless enthusiasm
makes you squint mroe and more
each day.
but now I've drained your eyes
and the push that has
SHOVED you through your days
is gone and emptiness resides
in its place.
.fallen your uncried tears ..... are here ... carried within ..... they fill up all the jars offered to them .... the window lets the sunlight in .... the window lets the moonlight in... and the glow dances on the walls ... shining through those jars .... such a delicate room .... such tender cargo .... don't worry ... they are safe .....don't worry ... I will always catch them ... the temple walls will sing to them ..... the magick won't die .... in the center of the room the dream will start to dance ...... the glass of the jars with the tink-tink sounds .... the soft light playing shadow games ....nothing can touch them here 040403
pete there is a town in the east, beyond the forest of barak, called nibariuk where the people supside on unshed tears. they spend the nights and mornings in darkness, the cliff that protects them from the november gales also blocks out their morning calls. nothing grows except the tree of sidrok's tears. the children are shades of what they once where, once had the potential to be. no one sleeps, how can you in 18 hours of darkness? during the 6 hours of light the families meet under the tree of nibariuk and eat dust trying to get as much light onto their pale skins as possible. evening comes too soon, and they return to their labour, subsiting on their unshed tears 040403
.fallen one day I will collect them all .... one day they will wash all over me ... and they will taste of nectar and altars ... of sweat and sex ... they will sigh over my flesh ..... they will sing and sing.. one day ... 040404
x fuck them. i hope they turn into fire and burn all the liars. 040404
Borealis I can only imagine how their number counts.
for all the moments I made you want to cry, I will shed those tears for you.
and keep those in a bottle
corked with my irritatingly persistent love, and you can keep it where you like, to assuage your own pain.

for I know you are too proud to allow even your own self the release of those soul_window_raindrops

a needed tear failed to course down your strong cheek, and thrice over will my own water wet the face of remorse and pity, giving to you what I wish I had had all along.
pete frustration burning inside your heart, you prepare to burst and collapse as you suffer beneath your passions.. and what for? *sighs* 041030
love & hate have dampened my face. 041030
kookaburra is quiet. are sliding down your throat and drowning your heart 041030
autumn My uncried diamons... 041030
autumn My uncried diamonds... 041030
suicidalchinadoll diamond_eyes 041113
what's it to you?
who go