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Fond cementing of fashionestas for intrests of the interested
Constant WTF moment:
I'm in awe of the way you inspire me to flow;
In and out between poetry and prose.
You're unexplainable without both.
I am a constant WTF moment;
A combination of frustration and nerves.
As random as wanting to do any little pathetic time waster as an excuse to cherish you
Is as random as to why or how I fell heels over head for you.
But you haven't seen that picture I've saved for you.
You're my constant wtf moment, a combination of frustration and nerves.
I can't blame you without hating myself, for missing out on desperately clinging to every memory I have left of you.
You can't pity me, without being care free
Dream with me because everything else is worthless
Screaming, does not help
Money, does not help
Threats, do not help
All of my grocery lists of pills,food and TV bills,
Mystery, music, and maybe love
Maybe hate and violence help
And what about;
Devotion and persistence
This self-abuse is a torturous feeling,
But it's what keeps my swollen heart beating.
Don't be mad, but I love you...
Something I never expect you to return,
You have made your point, but I will not learn.
I have become so weak, in this defeat.
I have sunk so low into myself, into this hell.
Where I know our ''love'' will never meet.
I keep my memory of you alive
With the pain that aches inside
I keep my pain for you alive
With the love I can not hide
I keep my love for you alive
Because I can make it cope
But I can't make it die.
I've admired you through your imperfections
But you're too afraid to appreciate mine
So, elude me if you must...
Just as long as we get to chat online
Each hour was countable.
I counted four.
Four hours have passed.
And here; is where, I've been,
screaming in agony,
holding my head an wincing;
with the pressure increasing,
increasing above and beyond my control.
With rocket wings, it glides as a monsterous thing...
I can only through my head back, and scream for no more.
My eyes are open now
No more reckless engine sounds...
And where, but where am I, somehow I am,
Exactly where I thought I always was
This is th eplace to be
When the pain is physcial, not crazy...
The bruises are soft
And the scars can feel the gentilest breeze.
And where I, but where am I, somehow I am. Today isn’t special, because I’m stained by coffee despite my attempts to not be sloppy. And there are hints of my cigarettes all over my body, because that’s the kind of smoker I am. I have my few precious hits, and then it’s time to split and walk through the rest of the day…carrying my sweet stains with no hope to get them out.
She loves to pout, heave in her stomach, and stick her small chest out. She loves to make vulgarity pretty, question authority, and bask in revelation: because that’s where the art is. Her key words are: Adoration, fixation, fascination, stability, and validation because relative terms are insane. She loves to trap herself in this circling game centered in the midst of a petty life, pity that waste until she has identification of age to prove she has self worth in society. Another, more adult circling game to play. Pity… She’ll just have to think outside the circle.
If all I were was a present, would I be the type you would return?...
The packaging looked only somewhat nice, but now your convinced; or at least there is concern:
Your sense of dissatisfaction would wilt the leaves off of a tree...
That smile you expected never happened with me.
I am that burden of a gift, you can only but return.
I am that mistake
from which you must learn...
Dreams are for Winners.
For the first time I’m proud of my most degrading weakness. I revealed it in all of its hideous and horrible glory to the world, when I threw a childish fit and scene of such inner frustration and fury. It leaves me even more alone then before, because no one wants to see anyone with a face to their despicable characteristics. They want only that featureless look of the impartial attitude that lives indifferently in society to hide their ambitions. Secrecy is a clever way to hide those plans, it prevents all if any disruption to them. I’ve come to hate that mask, I want to accept my ugliness atrocities and somehow utter them as spontaneously as they arise to the surface. And if I’m wrong in that without a mask there are unknown depths of freedom and restriantless boundaries, where one can sour without the fear of falling when they lose their confidence, or worth and self esteem… then I truly am ignorant. No more clever then a parrot who is idiotic enough to repeat what he’s believed to be true. I don’t want to hide from myself in the corners of my mind, the way nice boys do. Girls fall in love with assholes because at least they do not try to lie about what monsters they’ve become. It gives me the validation of stability, it makes me feel like that for once I’m not just a pity, self worth becomes me, I want to soar toward my dream until it becomes a reality and conquer these abandoned houses with obstacles chasing me. I’ll kill them myself when they lose their worth, those demonic gifts which give me direction to perfection are my lost loves. The blood stains on my sword will show how I ended it. No, it won't be vague at all. As obsession makes its way into reality, passiveness will become lonely in the fate distance of the mind. For then it will sleep.
Librarian Flowers present
Secrets so sweet taste bitter to eat, swallowing pride only to throw up my weak nature…
Blood tie dye cloths have made home to a civilization of white dusted moths.
The babes whom feasted upon the dried tied dyed cloth;
Have red lipstick stained faces, the past won’t come off.
I’ll say it clichely: but make no mistake…
Once their wings were ripped off, their grace baked in a cupcake!
Their graves tasted of soiled milk
Muffins spoiled in gray kimono silk, praised by new dark wave music
Where style overcomes substance
Because rational is chic’s opponent…
Layers of fantasy overcome me; it’s too much to bear
Call me ordinary, but in Japan everything is so out there:
Extravagantly extraordinarily extraordinary extraordinaire.
I wish upon, thee over yonder star, which from my fingertips, soars so far... that for this shadowed and masked man, comes forth a lady; just as wishful as I am.
/I want a loner to touch.
I want to violate one so much.
I just feel this impossible need...
But please keep your secerts at the door.
I want you to keep all of your alore.
I want to help set you free...
from the contraints built inevitably.
And for you, I'll balance waiting emotionally on hand and knee
Without invading your privacy.
And if you ever consider me a friend,
If I ever prove that somehow I am,
you'll show me, you'll let me see,
what no on else can.