Even ThoughSo I read. Self absorbed bullshit. Sharing pain to make you feel sorry. Never has apathy been such a pity.Even Though
And the computer hums. And I read.
Whiny little words so weak they disappear with each bat of an eye.
And even though I know they're about you. It's not you. And it makes me wonder who you are. And what the fuck am I reading.
And. And.
And.
I hear the sickly sweet rubbing of bone on bone and realize it's me. It makes me have to relax. Concentrate on the whole act.
Unclentch. Lossen.
Loosely TiedHunched over in the middle of the street, gut heaving in time to the pounding of my head.Loosely Tied
A blaze of halogen sending my silhouette for miles behind me. Stretching like the fingers of past lovers and haters. Pulling me further away from the feeling in my gut.
Lurch and spit. Snot and blood.
Clutching the knot eating away at my inards, I take tenuous steps in the direction of the fire in my eyes.
My Chuck Taylors slipping on the wet pavement. My knee crushes under the weight of me and everything else that I carry. Bone on bone that makes
26 Tales of Self and LoathingAfter we've swept up all the glitter, packed it up and tucked it in a place far out of reach, will you let me go then?26 Tales of Self and Loathing
Because it's better to walk away then to run away, you do know we are kidding ourselves, don't you?
Could I tell you now, sitting in the middle of the living room, picking silver and gold dots from the bottom of our feet?
Dig deeper, passed what I past and never look back, trapped in my mind to get away from you.
Everyone will talk about this when it's over, how I set the world on fire, even if it was only in my min
One. Two.It starts like music. All clang clang. And bang bang.One. Two.
And you make a circle. Not a literal one, like they do in the movies. Where some hero faces down his enemies. Draws a line in the sand, like a dare. But you make a circle. And it’s yours.
Feeling the air in that space you made. Moving in that circle. Waiting. Letting it come to you. The beat. The rythym. The pulse.
And then with the crash of a cymbal, it hits. You find that groove. You find the line inside that circle. And you start to make your own kind of
Kill Free Things I woke up suddenly. Eyes opened fast, like an infant looking up with cooing smiles at a doctor, only to get pricked unexpectedly with a long, sharp needle. Yeah, like an infant. And all I wanted was a red lollipop and a sticker to forget about that prick.Kill Free Things
It wasn’t until I stretched out on our mattress for a few minutes, sighed deeply several times, and made my way to my necessary cup of coffee that I really remembered who I was. Who I was supposed to be, anyway. Although it had been some time now, I had not yet gotten used to my new identity. And it wasn’t the caffeine that reminded me, eith
but... what if?a child-sized rain boot with matching yellow slicker tiny wet foot inside toes wiggling to stay warm inside thick, striped socks splashing through the puddles of an unknown city which are not so much puddles as streams big as rivers to her soft, hazel eyes right, left, splash, left, splash, left, splash, splash each giant step forward still falling short of the cool stride of her disinterested chaperone left, splash, left, splash, left, right, halt-- the orange hand lit up clearly through the haze of the city downpour wait. wait. wait. wait. free of mother’s hbut... what if?
..Metropolis..a shot rings out you feel suddenly frantic because the race has begun look down at your hands dirt smeared on your sleeves in the creases of your knuckles, under your nails the stains on your knees you know they’re there but can’t care at this moment just pick up your feet one concrete step at a time until you’re running full-speed running sweat bleeding through your pores through the dirt on your skin, through your clothes running so fast that no one can see you not the pigeons you trample not the people you shove not even god th..Metropolis..
..Transience..I want to etch you into my skin a permanent and tangible reflection in every hue and sensation of your deafening presence in every piece of my being I want to feel the needle dig in prick after prick after prick deeper, harder, faster watch the blood creeping out savor every second of pain for every moment of bliss then stand up weak and walk away, entirely sore blood still seeping out from inside of me dripping down my swollen skin staining me still not satisfied never having enough of you..Transience..
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i liek caek
write more soon please.
for my sake, and for your own...
i swear, i just saw him!
hmmmm...
soon i too may have to do many, many scary things in the name of satan.
ah, good ol' satan.
always there, when deviantart people let you down...
(Soon I may have to claim this account in the name of Satan)
--
i liek caek
I've been delving into prose as of lately, as I'm getting back into the habit of reading and writing. These two caught my eye and I need to pimp them.
Vodkagina - [link] - by
"Once..." - [link] - by
And, of course, send feedback to
(PS: I plan on trying to get back on the ball with this, at least as a bi-weekly habit from now own, if not weekly. If you're not on the list (read: didn't get this message) and want to, please note me and request to be put on the list. I'll get right on it.)
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--
Rori~+~+~+~+~+~+
"This isn't art--this is suicide in a social way" --Bad Religion
"Maybe it's a part of me you took to a place I swore I would never go, and maybe that fucked me up much more than you'll ever know..."
Pardon!
Oh, wait, I take that back, as you're not.
Baaaaa.
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