some people get me
and yet there are still Friends
that ask Why are you acting like this
Entries from August 2001 ↓
Getting Me
August 29th, 2001 — poetic
voices
August 29th, 2001 — darkness
I hear her wonderful voice as i slowly open my eyes to another day. its so very beautiful. she is singing and i love it when she sings. for a moment i am lost in her voice, but i know the distraction wont last for long. i must hurry.
I will accept
August 29th, 2001 — poetic
Cursed by the Goddess of Life,
We live to die,
Some die happy, some sadly at the end,
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reason
August 29th, 2001 — poetic
wondering what u think,what u feel.
i wish i could see into ur soul.
yet mine is the one who’s u stole.
The Perfect Little Girl
August 29th, 2001 — poetic
I was born to be perfect
To Tell not one lie
To not slouch at a table of honor
To Not stare in the skies
Fuck Its All
August 29th, 2001 — poetic
FUCK THE WORLD AND FUCK MY “FRIENDS”
FUCK MY PARENTS AND EVERYTHIN TILL THE END
LIES AND BULL SHIT
WORDS AND LIFE
FUCK IT ALL!!!
My Name He Calls
August 29th, 2001 — poetic
i keep digging…
August 29th, 2001 — poetic
Countless magical sunsets I have missed since I fell into this hollow, black hole.
And I keep digging with so much determination…
The farther I creep from the surface, the safer it feels…whether this safety is really safe I keep wondering and the thought of ever reaching a solid end I keep pondering.
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Darkness Falls
August 29th, 2001 — poetic
The darkness falls upon my eyes
They could not hear my desperate cries
My eye sheds a single tear
This shall end all the fear
When I Hope
August 28th, 2001 — poetic
When she holds you tight
I hope she doesn’t feel right
When she screws you good
I hope you’re not in the mood
the grasp of hipochracy
August 28th, 2001 — darkness
as a youth in america you are subdood into thinking that christianity is the only plausable path.Why should that be ,it is just as rediculious to pray to a anglo-saxon slave laborer that was crucified as it is to pay omedge to a tree,a rock,or the air.
religion is all about what comforts you so quit with the cave man mentality.if your happy with it thats all that matters
Burned Humour
August 28th, 2001 — poetic
I am my mother’s tears at my birth
Raging emotion of unshared words
Rotten beauty
I am unseen dewdrops that lie beneath the forgotten tranquil flowers
My only fuel for the fiber roots of a broken heart
Infringed
August 28th, 2001 — poetic
Infringed… I couldn’t have said it better myself
For that is what you do to me
Infringe on my life
What’s It To You?
August 28th, 2001 — poetic
You stopped me in the hall one day, asking
Do I look upon the world with a ‘happy look’?
Perhaps I sighed
Human
August 28th, 2001 — poetic
i can, if i try hard enough
remember how things were
all the simple smiles not forced
and open arms waiting for me
Deceiving Death
August 28th, 2001 — poetic
There is such a death
A death that has a beating ebony heart
And breathing poisonous lungs
A death that holds mundane emotion
Tip Toe Through A Tailored Life
August 28th, 2001 — poetic
There are no spoken words for such fancies
The tiny black painted threads that fabricate my world
A Stranger
August 28th, 2001 — poetic
I don’t even know why I put these poems on here, but I guess I’m alone searching for a lost soul to become a friend and for someone to actually know what I feel ever day of a life I want to end and probably will end soon. If anyone wants to, you can e-mail me. Here’s my poem on someone I thought I loved.
A Vampire in the Confessional - Part 6
August 28th, 2001 — vampire
(Note to the reader: the lines indicate change of first-person view)
Part 6
As I woke up, I felt the familiar world around me, yet more painful than ever. The funeral was yesterday, but I felt Maggie’s presence still with me. Perhaps from our last encounter, I am not sure. I just know that I have a hangover beyond belief. I wonder how much damage I did to myself last night, so I check for bottles strewn about, reminding myself yet again to clean my place. As I left the bedroom and entered my bathroom, I vaguely recalled my gut wrenching from the putrid smell in the toilet. I guess I was too drunk to flush, but at least now I could definitely sober myself up. I started my daily routine, just a little out of sequence. I washed my face awake, brushed my teeth then gargled the bad breath away, and got ready to put myself into the shower. I knew I had forgotten something, so I slipped on my robe and started to look around for a clean towel. I tried to avoid the small piles of clothes, since they could only be dirty. As I reached around the bed, I pulled out a folded-up towel, and screamed in shock when I saw a face from beneath this small pile of clothes.
Into The Darkness of Night part II
August 28th, 2001 — gothic
Mausolem moved quickly and sat down on the casket. Mara started to pace back and forth in the tomb. She glanced out the open door, and noticed that the storm had subdued.
Shut Down
August 28th, 2001 — poetic
Fear, The first experience
August 28th, 2001 — horror
I was about three, and the room was a continual merry-go-round. I called out, but noone heard! The trail of orange lights glimmered with a green glow as they floated around the room in time. The bed was moving counter clockwise, as I still called out; noone heard. The light of the streets were non-existent, no shine, no safety. The pit of my stomach knotted, as the fear programmed itself into my longterm memory. I knew that the chill wasn’t from the freshly refinished hardwood floors, it was supernatural, I was three, what accurate analysis could I give. I was Afraid!
AN EVOLVED FORM OF DECLARATION
August 28th, 2001 — poetic
I’m still watching you
little did you know that I would find
something new in something so divese
Prozac Can Help
August 28th, 2001 — poetic
The Sheep And The Goat.
August 28th, 2001 — poetic
Technicolor Eyes
August 28th, 2001 — poetic
green regression
spliced minds in session
alpha beta formula
for killing children
holy sunday communion
a story of a girl and her mother
August 28th, 2001 — darkness
“shut the fuck up!” screamed my mother…….
she was in her little room again. my mother screamed at the top of her lungs…the pain was to much for her she couldnt help but to get rid of it…so she kept a small collection of knives in her room. it was about a quarter past midnite
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You’ll just have to read it won’t you?
August 28th, 2001 — poetic
i just wanted to write this out…it is obviously not mine…
I never made it as a wise man
I couldn’t cut it as a poor man stealing
the memoir of a fallen angel _a tribute to my jendi_
August 28th, 2001 — death
if this gets, posted, assuming it did, my jendi died 371 days ago to be exact, when it was sumbitted.
greetings to you my death
August 28th, 2001 — poetic
pick at them those fucking scabs
pick the razor up and use it against me
who is fighting me it is so dark
fucking shit it is just me.
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