the night is something paradoxical. in its most tranquil bliss lies a great metamorphosis - the cusp of knowing that what once was shall never be again.

'all around me are familiar faces / worn out places / worn out faces / bright and early for the daily races / going nowhere / going nowhere / their tears are filling up their glasses / no expression / no expression / hide my head, I want to drown my sorrow / no tomorrow / no tomorrow / and I find it kind of funny / I find it kind of sad / the ( Read more... )

somewhere in the intoxicating blur of my many nights I sometimes am allowed a fleeting glimpse of something more.

nothing will ever be the way it was.

I crave.

just a little love.

less is more. right. I'll try to remember that as everything I once loved drifts away from me.

everything is wrong.

no one really cares. I surely don't.

where drugs fail me, the knife shall succeed.

falling down deeper.

I NEED SOME SERIOUS DRUGS.

a season of endings. a fractal curve of transition. love lost hopeless. tranquility only comes in the night. a sliver of something sublime to swirl away the rest of this devastating loneliness. something I can never really have.

his soft touch makes all things shine.

love is forever lost.

there is nothing to cling to anymore; what seems so perfect will too steal away from me. life hasn't been pleasing in years. what purpose do I have? when everything is over, when all of this goes away will I be able to recognize why I was here?
love is lost.

hate works best when cultivated over a black heart.

oceans of yellow orchids and a candelabra to make dracula proud

again in flux - a transition in between a transition - what else is new?

will such upheaval ever end?