a_writer's_diliberin They call me Truth Of flesh. Nasty little coverin of the inside. Falling over me and clouding me, creating a mask for the world. Its not so bad though. As i remember days when i needed this skin. When this flesh covered me from the sun and was an extra layer to pierce by a pointy objects. I remember it being soft. Good for compliments. Good for making me look attractive like everyone else. This skin. This writer's diliberin. it brought ellates and fixates and maks me seem... too normal. 070328 ... They call me Truth when i have nohing to say, i talk anyways, afraid that you would here my screaming soul in the silence. I watched you and perverted my hands against your breast. Did I know you well. I know you now more than i knew you then but you are still a stranger. you treated me so cold today. hands crushing you in desperateness, you still pulled away. "i love you' i said with smiles chasting back cries and obscinities. I was angry. felt like things had shifted again, as they always do, but i wasn't ready for it. We talked about it. you told me you changed your mind. I became almost hostile but i tried to hold it in. Continued to crush you, draw you to my chest, like a child not willing to let go, not wishing to accept change, and you felt my desperate state and it scared you. I gave up. released you and buried my head in my pillow. i heard you shuffling behind me. you left without saying a word. 070328 ... They call me Truth Deceit. It overpowers 070328 ... They call me Truth eyes moving back and forth, looking for an opening, a place toescape, a mike to speak, ...something somewhere to empower me to overpower the overpowering enduring deceit that is me. Thats why they call me Truth. If it is an obssession it is mine. It is mine to drive me crazy, to scrape the concrete of my shallow disposition, dig a whole, and call it "depth." If i am insane it is rightful so and it is not my place to dispute this. It is my purpose to follow whatever calls to my soul and trust that it is God or true being. And so, with moments, and places, and situations, and annoying, judgmental thoughts, i will seek to end my hypocrisy. Life long. right or wrong. i will bring truth because no doubt this fool will hold onto this obssession until he is the embodiment of his dream. In honesty, no one calls me truth yet, but they will. Hopefully. A Writer's Diliberin 070328 ... They call meTruth last night u was inside of me, and u left nothing. Almost transparent, our love, almost completely see through and revealing nothing on the other side. like a jackhammer against cement you hit against my heart and you shatter the pieces of faded memories and beautiful moments into black ash. Forget love. it has not done anything for me other than waste these years, brought me tears and make me fear everything. Crash. stammer away, i am, i wait, i hate this site that i have become, and i don't want you to look. i will go and hide for a while and come back strong, to waste my time in love again, to lose a love now and then, and leave everything to chance and hope that one day, i will find what i have been waiting for. Tears. Smiles. cries. kissing. lies. making love. walking away. Daring to stay. Rollercoaster. Love's rollercoaster. I ride. i wait. I stay until it ends. A Writer's Diliberin 070329 ... They call me Truth i sat there. eyes wide. burning. turning red and admiting tears to itself. I sat there and you did not hold me. I did not expect you to. i didn't even notice until now. What kind of love does not expect to be held? What kind of love does not realize that it cries and lcries alone? what kind of love? what kind of lover? I sat there. body tense. burning. turnung red. my body admiting fear to itself. You did not reassure me. I did niot notice until now. i did not notice. I did not expect you to at all. I know, in everything that i am, everything that i was, everything that i could have been, that i wouldn't be enough, and i would deprive myself of every selfish comfort to love you, to give you all of me. I would not recieve in a single moment or a forever, or a short lifetime, enduring love. pressed up against life, pressed up against the tinted glass watching my breath stain and then disappear from its surface and knowing that you cannot see me from the outside. Yet i am still here, pressed up against the glass. A Writer's Diliberin 070329 ... They call me Truth at midnight death walked in. He decided to spend the night. 070330 ... Death do you have cable? 070330 ... They call me Truth I have Direct TV. 070330 ... They call me Truth If there was enough time i would play with language, probably start off sslightly borrowing in such an unoriginal way from sources that i have read and thought to be particularly interesting in my "Issues in American Literature II" class. then i would get annoyed with myself on how unbelievably difficult it is to come up with unique ways to write (erases thought to put this in parentheses) and that i can only come with not so clever ways of displaying actions that i do intentionally for effect like parentheses. If i had time i would add words and then delete them, make words that don't exist, so that in a weird way, imagined in my mind they may seem, original and fresh, when i fact many people have tried this, and i would be adding to the insanity (place period here). How could i bring myself to that. I have so much appreciation for this language. The way it can have rules that govern everything but then still allows for infinite creativity (another arbitrary placement of parentheses after deciding to just say ((in a self revelatory way)) the truth. But the reason why i can't do this is, not appreciation, not a self imposed sense of creativity that is no where reality, not even for the satifaction of not adding another meaningless blather (not sure if this sentence makes sense, but really because time won't allow this to happen. i have a linguist class and i should not waste my time idling on the computer making irrelevant attempts at literary greatness (notice the contradiction (don'ttell anyone))) Maybe i should just nessle (ive never used the word before so forgive me if it is spelled wrong. i'm improving my vocabulary) into the fact that everything is the way it should and i don't need to be so much of a loser as to obssess about all the fallacies, illusions, flaws, imperfections, blah, blah, blah (my list is not sufficient) of the world. Im late. 070330 ... They call me Truth turns out i did spell it right 070330 what's it to you? who go blather from