

living in the pastI remember a time when I was younger, sitting around with a small congregation of my friends. We where utterly bored back than; in the dark ages of life. We had already seen it al, and we had already done it all. I remember how we all thought “just wait, when we are a few years older, we’ll be soooo cool, we’ll always have something to do.” The great fun we would eventually have was so exiting to think about. Looking back though, those few years made almost no difference. We had found that thinking about growing up was actually better than doing it. School got harder, our innocence became at risk, and girls came into play (and I’m not talkingliving in the past


fallen angelSilver liquid flowing like a rotten old man,fallen angel
spit in my face if you will but here me now.
This is not your place, go,
and live in heaven with the rest of you.
A fallen angel,
a dying rose.
Do not tear off your petals for mortality is sin.
Rotting inside,
silver mold eating away at your core.
Never dispel the ancient ways,
modern humanity is rarely humane.
Once you remove your petals,
your wings,
your soul
you can never return to the garden of Eden to live with the roses,
spite me if you must,
you will ride that silver sparrow


inside this houseInside this house Crouch feelings that have never been provoked Never been encouraged Never been expressedinside this house
They’re hiding
They’re awake in there Falling in the void Calling us, waiting to explode But they can’t come out Not in this house Not for a mother Not for her child
Even when the paint has worn away They’ll still be there Hiding in a house that will never be a home “Families” in days to come may slip though them, pail; cold to the touch Breathe them But how could they know them?
What wall can it be? &nb


444So I'll pretend I don't care It's a milestone today,444
the cork and chipboard flake away so fast those porceline masks they used to wear cracked so fast in the vice the sky's fade and fall clocks warp faces till they explode cogs, springs and the intricate ticking the mechanisms of our lives
We only view what we want to see melt in the sky melt in the sun my skin fades to show
the truth the truth the truth the truth
come with me and lets hide in the sky prisoned speakers shooting or shouting a message burn the image in the sky and colourize
Face

We dont...laced in silver casings we dont speak anymore of war controlled explosions weWe dont...
dont speak any more of war crying children and fallen hearts we dont speak any more of war blood filled pens and contracted lives we dont speak any more of war
If life is loud, I am the whisper If life is music, I am the speech If life is death, I am the contingent
we dont speak anymore of war.
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feed your head, everybody must get stoned
~*$olaris*~
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- art, poetry, dance and song is just a way of speaking of things that can't be vocally spoken of. ~Me
- "Grace" is but the knowlege of rythm. ~Me
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xoxo!
Les
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tatered and torn, religusly burned
bones broken, limbs tosed aside
hearts stomped in like a singel flower by cleats
a rose left standeing, a rose of war
a rose left standeing, that grows no more
don't fear your fate, fear not haveing one
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SABRINA; i've learned to retreat at the first sign of danger. i mean, why wait around if it's just to surrender?
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iv'e never known an unknown writer
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iv'e never known an unknown writer
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