

Thinking....Smell the agony Draw the wasteful efforts of humanity's proud claims. This deteriorating Earth Representing the people's achievements.Thinking....
Climbing over meadows
Such fierce obstacles. Those adults bathe in their complexity To comprehend so little.
Mocking love, molesting government, and molding defeat Is the anarchy's language, Repeating to learn What is defined as mimicking. To only succeed in Tasting their own Narcissi um.


It's What I SeeRough waters, A soft foam The scent of home lingers endlessly A moon too full for its own well being, These rocks imitating sand Bare sharp teeth meant To eat through flesh. These waves justify strength Only their plump scent Supports their innocence, This night is exhilaration. A sea too black to call dark. Where rocks are just as impassiveIt's What I See
As the crowds they mimic.
This place so sacred It's nirvana. Then again it's all a memory It's just the past. But, it's what bound Me to you.


BastardThere she stands Glued and impassive. The people flock by An American here The Latinos there The Italians stare. All fleeingBastard
To their nest. Each a different tree A different branch
A different leaf The colors envelope into one another
Until none exist Except one. A flash of yellow
She's transfixed. Briskly passing The eyes narrow
A card devoured by a click Then gone One more glance
She waits And she still waits...


It Seems Like...Some people are simply made to make themselves look like fools…It Seems Like...
I like to stand on the corner Singing to myself and listening to the rain, Whispering mental lullabies Somewhere inside the twists and turns of my mind. I like to call my imagination your home; I like to think you do, too.
Sometimes I wish I knew what you were talking about. I think it’d be nice if we understood one another’s words; It certainly ought to make talking easier Perhaps give it a purpose.
I don’t know. Once I tried to reach out and better myself But it seems I am nothing
At The Gate

Silhouettes We Remember...The hush of gentle tires against the newly laid asphalt is enough to disturb the blue jay resting thoughtlessly amidst the greenest of leaves. The surrounding image is a like a cartoon—a dream—all the natural figures outlined in white, the weeds the deepest emerald, the sky the most lush cerulean, swirling like the mimicking ocean below, softly and calmly. The sun is behind her, cautious new driver, and the house before them is set out as though on stage. Expectations had led eyes to the houses before and after, but her mother had her pause there, nearly about to creep past it, the front mailbox overgrown with weeds and unobvious.Silhouettes We Remember
--
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams
--
Live for Ville Valo. "You can never have enough prositution." Kat L. (My Wife)
As the petals of a rose fall, so does my life that passes me by.
--
***Dave***
--
Live for Ville Valo. "You can never have enough prositution." Kat L. (My Wife)
As the petals of a rose fall, so does my life that passes me by.
--
***Dave***
--
Live for Ville Valo. "You can never have enough prositution." Kat L. (My Wife)
As the petals of a rose fall, so does my life that passes me by.
[link]
--
~*The REAL L Woods*~
"What's the point in living if you can't feel alive?"
"If you live by the thoughts of others, what is the point in having your own?"
.."What's the point?!"
[link]
--
~*The REAL L Woods*~
"What's the point in living if you can't feel alive?"
"If you live by the thoughts of others, what is the point in having your own?"
.."What's the point?!"
[link]
--
~*The REAL L Woods*~
"What's the point in living if you can't feel alive?"
"If you live by the thoughts of others, what is the point in having your own?"
.."What's the point?!"
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