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(pas de sujets)

nov. 25e, 2006 | 09:39 pm

"If you're not in pain, you're not alive. be grateful."


-Mar

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(pas de sujets)

nov. 25e, 2006 | 09:38 pm
emotion: smug

As a writer, one of my main motivations is selfishness. I want. Give me truth where there art only lies, give me substance in those empty eyes, LeT Me FeeL, LeT Me ToUCH. Give me your audience, give me thine ears, let me reach a cool ice hand and caress your dark fears. I want to grasp you in your sleep, your nightmares, and not let go until the soft dawn burns your eyes and you awake. You continue, you live. But you question your desire for more. You ridicule it, you deny it. But it is there, insatiable in it's urging. Ever wanting, nay, needing more. The hunger, ah, the pain.The temptation to sleep will finally become overwhelming and you shall sleep, devouring my every word and concept in this dark landscape. I want you to stay here. I want your addiction. I want you pathetic. I want to sap every little bit of will you posess. My stories have no bad guys. I AM the bad guy. And i have no fear.


11/17/06

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(pas de sujets)

juil. 20e, 2006 | 03:36 pm
location: existence
emotion: none
sounds: tribes howling

Men in top hats,
                                walking by,
                    dreaming undreamable dreams,
travel in shadow


                                                                      Streetlights flicker
                                                                                                                         flashing "off"
                                                                                            leaving room for ghosts.






—WAITING—


(a bathroom shade)
(pretty pastels on terrycloth)

 
                                                                  gumsplotches on sidewalk pavement
                                                                                                                               travel in shadow




                                              (white cream)
                                      dear shadow...

(woman wearing pink champagne)
                                                                       dear shadow...

(dripping pearls on her silken gown)
                                                                                                                                                                          dear shadow,
                                                                                                                                                                                                                              do men in top hats still
stretch your limits of reality?
                                                                                                                                                                                     love,
                                                                                                                                                                                                                                 a concerned customer.
shadowshadowshadowshadowshadowshadow
shadowshadowshadowshadowshadowshadow
shadowshadow kissmeyoufool shadowshadow
shadowshadowshadowshadowshadowshadow
shadowshadowshadowshadowshadowshadow







kisses/reality fading like dying moonlight.


(Waiting Fulfilled.)

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juil. 19e, 2006 | 01:19 pm
location: the void
emotion: existing
sounds: the tribe's chants

How can you cry?


teach me.

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(pas de sujets)

juil. 17e, 2006 | 02:40 am

I'm through with this fucking bullshit. this emotional, predictable, heart-warming goodness. it's over. this is now a second journal. i am creating another for Reality/

username: what_future

i exist.

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