Organic sounds of lungs callousing from agressive excersion is what I hear
especially on this hollow night
the rumble of the speed
the incontrolable movement
the intakes of despair
I honestly don't care.
The same old routine is beginning to form
old beliefs that you wish you could uphold, deteorate slowly
No matter what is said, you do not believe it
you feel it once in a while, but you are never satisfied
there is no satisfaction in solitude.
you wish you could be feeling a cold breeze rushing through your soul
hoping it will accelerate your feelings
wishing you could be alone with them
while being crowded with people you truly love.
too bad vehicles run on 4 wheels not 5...
no matter how much you hate the seperation, you cannot do anything
they wish to be with new people,
while you look for chance of being part of a conversation,
your thoughts wonder in a slow cycle through the clips and pictures of a
missed period
I want to go and play my guitar at a park at night under the stars, somebody take me
Friday, August 29, 2008
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
you
see yourself
why are you even breathing
why are you even here
why do you have vitals, when someone else deserves it
why do i talk in question form?
why can't those lycanthropes, canines, wolves in my dreams be real
why can't their merciless actions be as true as my weaknesses
why are you even breathing
why are you even here
why do you have vitals, when someone else deserves it
why do i talk in question form?
why can't those lycanthropes, canines, wolves in my dreams be real
why can't their merciless actions be as true as my weaknesses
Saturday, August 2, 2008
erm
The quill is the writers monocle to make his thoughts clearer onto his canvas
but the quill has its own point in which it could be dependent
it could bleed everything it wanted away, not caring what the writer read or perceived
however, it wouldn't.
there would not be enough murky plasma for the quill to form a foundation for its explanation
there would not be enough hugs and sweet words to give it the strength to leak its desires
however, it wants to.
I miss
I miss everything
I miss everyone, every laughter, every night, every smile.
I miss hope, I miss sleep, I miss being more than a standby, I miss freinds, I miss wishes, I miss the honesty in promises, I miss not being so afraid and paranoid, I miss security, i miss satisfaction, I miss stability, i miss thinking I was part of something not just a wandererrr, I miss being in a state knowing that it could happen, I miss not waking up thinking that its all over, that they are gone, that im done for.
but the quill has its own point in which it could be dependent
it could bleed everything it wanted away, not caring what the writer read or perceived
however, it wouldn't.
there would not be enough murky plasma for the quill to form a foundation for its explanation
there would not be enough hugs and sweet words to give it the strength to leak its desires
however, it wants to.
I miss
I miss everything
I miss everyone, every laughter, every night, every smile.
I miss hope, I miss sleep, I miss being more than a standby, I miss freinds, I miss wishes, I miss the honesty in promises, I miss not being so afraid and paranoid, I miss security, i miss satisfaction, I miss stability, i miss thinking I was part of something not just a wandererrr, I miss being in a state knowing that it could happen, I miss not waking up thinking that its all over, that they are gone, that im done for.
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