It’s been ages. Everyone always loved my journal entries. It was always loved for my blunt honesty and willingness to write about rather personal issues. As one person put it, “You write it as if the whole world isn’t going to read it,” and “you write about more than just what you had for lunch.” This brought joy to me and countless others. My
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Comments 9
psycho!
psycho!
psycho!
psycho!
i'm glad you finally posted. gave me something worthwhile to read.
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Sometimes I wonder who was worse, Amy or Sami, but then again who, who gives a...
I hope your last sentence doesn't imply that this is your last post. ;)
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Gray would be the color... if I had a heart
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You're asking when do I stop?
When the bottle's empty.
Blacker than my father's soul,
drunk enough to raise us all.
Pink roses.
Nomad:
Drowning rat.
Black.
Black.
So black you can't even grasp the fact.
Blacker than a beggar's soul,
rich enough to save us all.
Pink roses.
Lead with your need as god descends.
Cold in the ground.
What gets me this down?
The smell of magnesium,
the smile of a clown.
I want to drink you, scare you, fuck you and film you.
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