Twaddles

Secenario One:

One day I will take you to India and show you all those places where the legends where created. Remember all the stories I told you? We will walk with the ghosts and let them tell us their stories. I will take you to Mandu, and show you the Jahaz Mahal which was also built for love. There was this poet-prince Baz Bahadur who fell in love with a singer named Roopmati. He built that exquisite palace for her in the shape of a ship. She married him, but they did not live happily ever after. When Akbar the Great heard of her beauty, he dispatched an army to Mandu to capture her. Bahadur managed to slip away from the battle, but his bride was left behind in the palace. The poor thing poisoned herself rather than fall into the clutches of the attackers. It

I could talk forever,
Talk until I'm blue in the face
Of how corrupt this love now is,
I could tell you ideas
That all the things you harbour are based on selfishness.
But it would be futile, it would make no sense.

As tight as the bond once was, being with you
Is like being alone, with discomfort,
Yet still a bizarre security, like a blank void.
A void, when I look at you and see myself.
The clear wall abounds, and why must it be?

We stood face to face,
Now rather back to back,
Now only our walls touch.
We do not.
Perhaps we never will again.
Perhaps I'd like to put myself in a place
That doesn't hurt.
Oh to be coy!
So I would be unaffected by emotions
And use them for toys, to play with
And twist, and burn.
Burn to the ground.

Love; no wonder it's so hard to understand.
Hate is hate. Anger is anger. Sadness is sadness.
Love is a vague melted medley of all that is.

There is a room in my mind where I keep you.
When I leave, I would slam the door shut, hard.
One day the hinges dissolved beneath my tears.
And now there is no more door.
The contents of the room

I stand here shouting at the walls,
Trying to get them to respond.
Calling out for them to let me in,
Begging, screaming, cursing, crying.
Just say something. Please!!!

I stand here pounding on the walls,
Trying to hurt them like I hurt.
Bleeding palms, and jagged nails,
Hitting, punching, scratching, slapping.
Just feel something. Please!

I standing here looking at the walls
Looking for the soul that was inside
Hoping, praying, moaning, sobbing,
Blood shot eyes, too tired to see.
Just look back at me. Please!

I stand here shouting at the walls,
To the person who stands in front of them.
My love? Where are you now?
I'm crying, dying, tired of trying.
For you to just love me. Please!