My chipper approach on life has fallen short. There are all kind-of things to know the right answer to, but don’t really feel it. It might just be a shroud, cover in understanding that strangness means seperation and that not going along means insanity. Preaching how sex is enjoyable may be the worst of it… Continue reading Without
Tag: shroud
What It Could Be
When I touch myself I think of you And when my body explodes I envision us
Raven’s Edge
This is my flight… In a dark mind, In a lonenly room of hatred, In the home of self-torture.
3 Dark Shadows
Find herein 3 pieces of poetry by myself…enjoy the shadows… 6 PM to 6 AM From dusk ‘till dawn Friendly society of the night In many forms…in many places Stealing, drinking away the nightly hours
:SICKNESS LOST FOREVER:
-my days have been filled with this sickness -pulling me down -killing me slowly -for i thought i was forever lost
Who Walks, Addicted To Night (journal entry, Oxford, from my time as a student)
There’s a wind. It’s a steady, gusty wind, but not really a sharp penetrating wind, yet; it blows my skirt every which way, even up into my face – a blinding caress, black silk. I don’t care, it’s four o’clock in the morning (why don’t they call it night?) and there’s nobody around to see,… Continue reading Who Walks, Addicted To Night (journal entry, Oxford, from my time as a student)