Eben Thedreamer Poems

Love is a drug, yet so is alchohol.
And it is with love as with alchohol, some love it, and some despise it.
I must be a love addictive cuse i hate it but can´t live without it.
Every vein in my body desire it, without it i´m slownly withering away.
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bleeding love, bleeding life
energy disappears out into the vast emptiness
constantly searching for meaning, never to find..
hungering for someone to share with
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Do you remember when we first met? i do
when i first saw you, you dazzled me
i blushed and tryed to hide the fact that i couldn´t look at you directly
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Strong words, Strong emotions
let it all go? and just follow your basic desires...?
accept anyone cuse you miss someone?
accept someones feelings when you´ve buried your own?
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as angels whisper in my ears
my eyes goes blank and my body gets numb
i struggle not to hear their soundless voices
behind the angelic masks there is a faceless head
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so beautiful a dream about true love
two souls bound and tangeld up with each other by the red band of fate
blinded by a greater power fumbling in the dark with your end of the band at a tight grip
walking around in a garden with sweet fragrances and frail flowers who bloom and wither away in a instant
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day in, day out, always the same rough reality gnawing upon the fragile dreams circling around one.
stories you read, tales you hear about. will you ever find yourself inside one of them?
are imagination but a dream itself? will ever dreams come true?
we can escape the reality for short moments. will we ever be able to break the dull everydays, with the abilitys we were given by birth?
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yet another petal falls to the dusty floor.
each day another one looses it´s grip from my withering heart.
the fragile flower gains nourishment no more.
with hollow eyes i watch the flower slowly wither away, unable to help it further.
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looking up at the nightsky, feeling a cool breeze embrace me
strong feelings and painful thoughts passing through my heart and mind
slowly reaching against the moon i feel somewhat peaceful
closing my hand around it and it all gets dark
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In the end nothing ever matters.

In the end the faces still appear, branding ones heart with their mark.
Some say time heal wounds, but can she remove scars?
...