RX: 2dump drucks one high way please refer to prior message
Thursday, 1. May 2008, 08:49:45
sorrow shadow and desperation. fuck that. the intelegence of this blog has now withered with all other aspects of my better personality. impossible done. fo take a friends hand has your own is hoved down your throat. to choke on the are of a car speeding inches from your hip, with any hessitation, with out the smallest glimps or glimmer of fear. the the driver swerves this is over, all of it, with out hessitation or remorese, but at the moment with all the termole and frustration, there is hope. i dont know when it got here or how long it will last, but its a light and a warmth that i refuse to let go of it.
this blog isnt done, but it needs to be paused... now.
resume... with a play list.
blood lust. proken thirst. a trust. painless bursts of thriving shine and liquid life. singal tear balanced at a dagers point, pointed forthe one last pixle of flesh left lingering on the back. as tattoo shine through for mthe skull and moments of murder prove more vialent to then those who would pass the glance off to anouther. this is not ok. this is not me saying that i am ok. this not me saying that i am going to be ok. i will be ok. this is to howling songs in the moon light on at a padios mercy and seeing his skin roll back from his face while you peel away all he has created. this to survival. to failure. i am some not one to dedicate but this is to seems to be a theme of late.
my mind has snapped off and still i press on. this place is bitter.
it has long since failed to quench a thirst that grows bt the second. i am the absents of ones self.
im am ignorance knowing no bliss and the seventh layer finding its place in as your home. i am you cozy by my fire. i am the fire. and the cocoa and the mug, the acid in your stomache and you. i am all of these things and none. i was ment to be bowed to i am ment to be worshiped. he is smarter then helooks and reflects my own brillance but i remember when he was awake. it must be this place that has fogged has vision. soon we'll be home and i will understand his words once agian. more at home then in bed. this new creation of conclusion is tanatlizing even for those who dare not particpate or interupt. this is not mine. for he is his own. but we are one in this place. this place has turned bitter.
it took four years for us to teach him how to forget for this moment when in a moment he knows howto remember. maybe a medication would be good for awhile. to ease this awaking trouble. its not trouble at the source, bot most cerionly within the comclusion. i cant do this agian. i will not take anouther cycle. anouther toss up as to be who will be lead. staging these lives is no more coplex then staging a play. for we are the playes and this is my muse.
dangling. arms fling to your neck, to the sight of the presure. your won weight not enought to crush the air pipe. your not going to die, for the same reason every attempt looses its intreage i loose the purpose.
god damn it. every night theres more to say more intelegently, and i close my eyes so i can type with less interuption and end up doing this, spouting idocracies to the wallmart slave labor force then falling asleep at the keys. this is my [pint. i need to sleep more then you can privde. my phone iks dead and sitting less the 19 feet away. im too tired to think about what blog this is in yes i need to sleep.
good drugs and ciggettes will make this go away
inflating the corpse half way down your throat and the world is still turning as you spin on its axis.
this blog isnt done, but it needs to be paused... now.
resume... with a play list.
blood lust. proken thirst. a trust. painless bursts of thriving shine and liquid life. singal tear balanced at a dagers point, pointed forthe one last pixle of flesh left lingering on the back. as tattoo shine through for mthe skull and moments of murder prove more vialent to then those who would pass the glance off to anouther. this is not ok. this is not me saying that i am ok. this not me saying that i am going to be ok. i will be ok. this is to howling songs in the moon light on at a padios mercy and seeing his skin roll back from his face while you peel away all he has created. this to survival. to failure. i am some not one to dedicate but this is to seems to be a theme of late.
my mind has snapped off and still i press on. this place is bitter.
it has long since failed to quench a thirst that grows bt the second. i am the absents of ones self.
im am ignorance knowing no bliss and the seventh layer finding its place in as your home. i am you cozy by my fire. i am the fire. and the cocoa and the mug, the acid in your stomache and you. i am all of these things and none. i was ment to be bowed to i am ment to be worshiped. he is smarter then helooks and reflects my own brillance but i remember when he was awake. it must be this place that has fogged has vision. soon we'll be home and i will understand his words once agian. more at home then in bed. this new creation of conclusion is tanatlizing even for those who dare not particpate or interupt. this is not mine. for he is his own. but we are one in this place. this place has turned bitter.
it took four years for us to teach him how to forget for this moment when in a moment he knows howto remember. maybe a medication would be good for awhile. to ease this awaking trouble. its not trouble at the source, bot most cerionly within the comclusion. i cant do this agian. i will not take anouther cycle. anouther toss up as to be who will be lead. staging these lives is no more coplex then staging a play. for we are the playes and this is my muse.
dangling. arms fling to your neck, to the sight of the presure. your won weight not enought to crush the air pipe. your not going to die, for the same reason every attempt looses its intreage i loose the purpose.
god damn it. every night theres more to say more intelegently, and i close my eyes so i can type with less interuption and end up doing this, spouting idocracies to the wallmart slave labor force then falling asleep at the keys. this is my [pint. i need to sleep more then you can privde. my phone iks dead and sitting less the 19 feet away. im too tired to think about what blog this is in yes i need to sleep.
good drugs and ciggettes will make this go away
inflating the corpse half way down your throat and the world is still turning as you spin on its axis.
You worry me as you always do.
I wish I was there.
By anonymous user, # 1. May 2008, 13:17:31