Yang; HoldOnToYourHeart =]

Guess who's writing again! =]

Opinions on the opening please?

The Daisy And The Rose

One

I've sat here many years and watched the world go by. It's a terrifying place. I've seen the things society does to you, yet no-one is ever truly ready for when it hits them. Each blow harder than the next. This is a story of depletion. Angst and anger. A story of love. Romance and pain. A story of truth.

'What a shit opening.'

The scrunched up piece of paper landed in the bin, seemingly pirouetting off of the metal rim and the would-be-author raised his aggravated head. He reached for his glass half-filled with Scotch and grasped the handle before allowing the liquid to run down his throat. Whilst it replenished him, it also made him less capable to do the task at hand. It was always Sam Ji-Merribonn's wish to be a famous author. His writing skills were usually second to none, but he suffered from the problem of disliking all of his own work, thus, never finishing anything. In all his years and failed attempts, he somehow always thought that the next story would be the one that got him into major businesses. The one that made him rich. It never was.

One look around could tell you that he was unsuccessful. The central heating was bust and the window pane had a crack in it that was letting minute amounts of air in. You couldn't even really call the two rooms that made his humble abode a flat. Three if you included the toilet. If that wasn't enough to give the impression of his failing career you didn't need to look far in order to see the various types of bugs and woodworm encasing the stained floor. It was hardly likely to hold the key to an artists inspiration.

Slowly Sam stared at the tiny digital clock that sat upon the mantelpiece guarding the unused and bricked-up fireplace where a tacky radiator had been replaced with a plug-in socket. It was 2:53. The circular legs of the wooden chair were forced backwards and Sam's legs cracked as they moved out-of-position. He violently nudged the chair out of the way, with the obvious afore-thought of wanting to kick out and break it, but the tiredness and aggravation was overwhelming, so as soon as his face touched the cold damp mattress that he called a bed, his eyes shut and dawn passed his weary head by.


- TIS NOT MY USUAL TYPE OF THANG -

Just thought I'd point that out. :{P

Anyhew; normal part of mai bloggery bit now methinks, 'cept not much has happened since the last one otehr than Tom Beasley labelling me as penis'... which is sort of unnerving. His fantasies aren't half odd. ;) :{P

Okay, I was doing my best to wind him up, by saying I stole the one he luuuurves off of him, and as I was on the radio, the songs I played MAY just have been a bit influenced. :{P

Green Day - Boulevard Of Broken Dreams
Good Charlotte - Dance Floor Anthem (I Don't Wanna Be In Love)
Arctic Monkeys - Bigger Boys And Stolen Sweethearts
The Smiths - This Charming Man
Billy Bragg - Valentines Day Is Over
Kill Hannah - Boys & Girls
Billy Talent - Ever Fallen In Love With Someone (Cover)
Lostprophets - Broken Hearts, Torn Up Letters and the Story of a Lonely Girl
Razorlight - Who Needs Love?

Oops. :{P

So yeah, not much to report in La-la land. However, this'll probably turn out to be quite a large blog post due to story opening. ^_^ Now to finish with some more writing. I wrote this last night whilst I was in an odd mood. x{P

Scream

I'm beginning to deplete,
Under the lights that show the street,
Why must this path be molten,
Been walked before and the cracks show it's broken.

I'm not the fucking dirty twat I seem,
I'm alive inside and I wanna scream,
This train is stopping – I've ran out of steam,
Because there's a heart underneath this hide – Just wanna scream.

Feel my pulse go double speed,
I'm not one for the bible or the creed,
But is to much for people to see,
How much of a man this interior can be?


I'm not saying fuck the world or recognise me,
I merely want to people to open their eyes and see.

I'm not the fucking dirty twat I seem,
I'm alive inside and I wanna scream,
This train is stopping – I've ran out of steam,
Because there's a heart underneath this hide – Just wanna scream.

You can't read me like a book,
Or lift my mood like a fork-lift truck,
Sure I have my fantasies,
But it's a covered-up disease,
My mind is a shrine,
But it is about time,
It was explored,
By the ones adored.

I'm not saying fuck the world or recognise me,
I merely want to people to open their eyes and see.

I'm not the fucking dirty twat I seem,
I'm alive inside and I wanna scream,
This train is stopping – I've ran out of steam,
Because there's a heart underneath this hide – Just wanna scream.

[[INSTRUMENTAL]]


I'm not saying fuck the world or recognise me,
I merely want to people to open their eyes and see.

Peace out. x{P