I was sitting outside and just staring at the moon. It was only slightly covered, but it shone beautifully through the clouds. I noticed that after staring at it for a good long time, the auroa surrounding it made the shape of a heart. A rainbow heart of blues, silvers, reds, and yellows. It was then I wish I had a camera, a camera that took a ( Read more... )

If you think I'm thinking of your value here;
you're the one who's losing control.
This eventual stop this, break in the mold;
I scream down this hotline just to feel something.
This situation, isn't getting any better.
I see that look in your eyes;
You want to see a pretty face
There isn't anything wrong with giving up.

And for what it's worth,
( Read more... )

CAN'T YOU FIND ANYTHING BETTER TO DO THAN STALK MY PAGES LIKE THIS?
4 times on myspace yesterday.
At least twice here to post and then respond.

GET A LIFE.

// YOUR ROOM, WAKING UP ( Read more... )

If you read this,

even if we don't speak often,

you must post a comment on my page with a memory of you and I.

It can be anything you want -- good or bad,

just as long as it happened.

Then post this up yourself and see what people

remember about you.

Sometimes my past gets a hold of my heart, and I find myself swallowing a ferociousness familiar of prey; razor shards of words that I keep in my throat...for some reason, never letting them touch the air and have their own redemption. You can grow - hack at the access of yourself - but in the end, it never goes away ( Read more... )

So, I'm reading a novel called Still Life With June and it's quite good. There is a certain excerpt from there that I love, although it's rather insulting to me.

XVI
One thing you should know about writiers. Most of these people who give ( Read more... )

DUDE, MEENA IS AWESOME AND I LOVE HER!

New Jersey is so much fun. :) I want to live here.

Because if I'm lucky my writing spurt will fucking stop.

His embodiment bled complex thoughts to my breaking heart. These unrehearsed words rape smiles for confessions of half truths and partial lies. My stone heart and forgotten dreams leave me in an unfortunate disposition between new hope and spiriling statements. Thoughts of lonliness bring ( Read more... )

I wish my fingers were pens. At the slightest touch on thick, white paper I would leave marks; words that could save lives or break hearts. Encrypted in fonts that anyone could understand, but only a simple few would make the effort of attempting. The pages would be graced with soft black and blue markings, like lyrical bruises sensitive to the ( Read more... )