I'm burying this journal. Meet me at shakes_spear.

If this machine is mine within which to dream surely I must glean all the means I can achieve. This soul is far from clean, but dirt and scars make for better stories, and that golden tint on the dawn seems to lead to better glories which is why I don't worry, even in my darkest of nights, I don't scurry, even from the oldest of frights because I' ( Read more... )

Goodbye, two thousand nine. Au revoir to the sights that blinded my eyes. To the tears that I cried, to all the deceit and lies, to the ties that no longer bind and the crimes I've yet to commit. I won't quit, nor pitch a fit when the second hand flits across the midnight stick. The trick is to keep breathing, not to keep leaving. Demons pursue and ( Read more... )

Though I've been attempting to pick up my slack, the lack remains, stains my days. The cage I am building around this heart will be impenetrable. In general, my specifics are dickless, and these chicklets only occupy the tongue til the taste is done. Dead and gone, yet still I carry on, swallowing my swan song. Tell myself it won't be long but this ( Read more... )

1. What did you do in 2009 that you'd never done before ( Read more... )

Why is it that things only start to really make sense and go after 24 hours or more of being awake? I am the lake, where cravings slake yet what I'll take could break you, I won't be fake, dude, but what I shake through keeps the skies blue and the heavens above. Perhaps not quite the "peaceful" dove, but I know love and I won't deny it. I'd rather ( Read more... )

I'm made of old black magic ( Read more... )

It's as though something was waiting, just waiting to bloom, and at midnight when the first tab of acid was ingested it began to take root, flower and flourish ( Read more... )

In these times, where minds cry to be circumcised I find these ties that bind mostly crafted of lies. Twisted into these fine lines are the sighs and the whines that grate on my eyes and leave me willing to go blind, but something still pries at the lashes when i pluck the edges of my gashes for these emotional slashes leave me trapped in acid ( Read more... )

You can cry until there is nothing wet in you. You can scream and curse to where your throat rebels and ruptures. You can pray all you want, to whatever god you think will listen and, still, it makes no difference. It goes on, with no sign as to when it might release you and you know that if it did relent, it would not be because it cared.And as ( Read more... )