

Hidieous Beating HeartWhere are we going? I ask your beautiful rippling face That dwells deep in the cool well Of my deeply dug soul But in slices of color you fade so silently Into the depth of my tumbling eyes While in the palms of my boney handsHidieous Beating Heart
I still feel so ravenously
The haunting tautness of you stomach bare
Where were we? I questioned your morning chapped breathe Which I can still smell so fondly But it was ugly sopping lies
That did drip from your lips Which drowned my despair as they slithered In long greasy strands Into my quivering doubtful ears &


Get Me Away From Here agianI awake in my bed with dreams still lingering in my hazy eyes, dried trails of tear crusted to my cheek. It always takes me a few minutes to realize that the dirty autumn morning light that slants across my face is of the real world, and not some distant one. So I rub my watery eyes and yawn, realizing that I have yet again awaken to a reality that is not my own. The usual routine of getting a shower, dressed, and out the door was soon to come. I don't eat breakfast; I am not a morning person. Nobody is ever home in the morning, it's usually just me and my toothbrush. I leave at around ten after to get to school in plenty of time.Get Me Away From Here agian


Stained Glass DistanceIn my sleep and in my mind You appear in colors Of lemon and lime In a voice of barren moist I call your name The sound echoes but does not get through My cry escapes your ears, and dissipates. Then as if fallingStained Glass Distance
Again I call for you.
In my sleep and in my dreams You appear in shades
Of crimson and cream
I smell morning on your breath As you slither secrets between my lips Unblinking you stare down the blooming depth Of my hungry eyes Our skin bleeds in drenched pillars of lust As we fade and escape In streams of forgotten dus


Celestial EyesI can see your thoughts…Celestial Eyes
I can see your dreams. In great blue buckets they fall. In washing, spattering rain Streaking and running On my minds windowpane. In this shifting, familiar house You leave ghostly trails of smiles… That led only to close doors. Where behind I hear murmurings Of far away voices Of far away rooms…
Just beyond the reach… Of my curled, categorizing fingers Dancing across the bleached spines Of empty books. Where just behind…
In slices of light I try to steal
From your d
--
I don't know anything about killing women. That's straight boy stuff.
--
I don't know anything about killing women. That's straight boy stuff.
I go back and read them.
And they make me smile.
--
I don't know anything about killing women. That's straight boy stuff.
..Dude, give me a friggin call.
Pwease?
(619) 634-8088
We neeed to catch up, dude.
--
. s a k u r a . l o v e s . s y a o r a n ."
--
I don't know anything about killing women. That's straight boy stuff.
--
I don't know anything about killing women. That's straight boy stuff.
Back in the day it just went without saying at all.
All the world's history gradually dying of shock.
There is thing that's like talking except you don't talk.
~Sing
--
I don't know anything about killing women. That's straight boy stuff.
--
I don't know anything about killing women. That's straight boy stuff.
Previous Page12345...Next Page