

Too ArmsThey told me my heart would skip a beat Alas when I saw you it almost didToo Arms
My heart beat regularly
But I found it hard to breathe
A cliché for the moment I saw you
How perfectly ridiculous For I have seen you before Alas I forgot I could have loved you
Touch my chest
It’s all the rage You’re skin, soft, cold
Alive
Slip another one down my throat
Two for me one for you Such a simple question How did I get stuck with you?
Hold my hand and ask me to look you in the eyes You know I can’t help but earn
Ye


Big Green MonsterThe shadows weep from the edges As the spirits rise from the black circle The charcoal trees do not move in the wind And far from the forest a man laughsBig Green Monster
Trapped within a room with an open door The walls are the floors And the floors are the walls Filled so brightly with the joy of a clouded window
On the walls sit five men
On the floor leans all the barest of their needs The room floats with the dust moats
A man reaches but he never grasps
Take a breath for a minute
Then hold it for the air is thin
One more, just one more No o


Mental BookendsIn all the worlds great studies, Of psychology and minds, You won't hear much to listen to, In a single of their finds.Mental Bookends
First you're hit with science. Then you're hit with lies. Then you're told you're useless. That's when the panic will arise.
Just when you think you lost it, In those same repeating calls. You'll finally come to realize, That you only need to break Off of Th


Paint ItShadow inspiration. That of the black muse. It calls for creation... For you, my dark beauty, are the essence of lifelessness. Melancholy masquerading in fear and hope. Bathing in the pools of your pitch black eyes. Soullessness embraced The muse is calling for your next masterpiece. Your work of art. Your desire. Beauty of the carrion breed. Paint the walls. In your heart the frozen epic. Paint the floor. That epic ending to such a tale. Paint the ceiling. A tale of sorrow. Paint the sheets. A tale so dark, sexual, only you can convey.Paint It


i can't stop.going to the roof? she asked and then it was obvious. it was meaningful like a stain on a brand new once worn white shirt. it was startling, like the crash of her abundant bottles of beauty care that morning. it was touching, like knowing that today i told someone and maybe i'll get better because we're the same as we've ever been. of course i'm going to the roof i said, because it was obvious. the roof is closer to the sky.i can't stop.
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you will become an element
of our ascension
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"that which we call the world is the result of a host of errors and fantasies " Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche
[link]
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"Paranoia means having all the facts." - W.S.Burroughs
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{ and the rivers of blood pushed back in my veins. }
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If you weren't quite so big, it would be time for Mr. and Mrs. Spank to pay a short, sharp visit to Botty-land.
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Please visit my new account [link]
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"that which we call the world is the result of a host of errors and fantasies " Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche
is a Wannabe Poet
is Male
is a deviant since Feb 10, 2006, 10:15 PM
has 333 pageviews
is located in Australia
last visited 9h 56m 47s ago
keep it up!
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"that which we call the world is the result of a host of errors and fantasies " Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche
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Bombing for Peace is like Fucking for Virginity
I want a woman to look at me
Like I look at cheesecake
*Apophysis ~ultrafractal
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