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mr inbetween
I have nothing poetic to write anymore.


Somewhere in the whirldwind of broken hearts and almost-a-year-after-we-broke-up sex (hah, we should make an anniversery out of it. what material should i stab you in the back with? is it ivory yet?), the looming exams waiting impatiently to tear me down and rip apart my dreams, the thick musty STATIC air inside my veins... I have lost myself. The poetic, lonely mask of me has lost the former to accentuate the latter. I miss you, stranger of my past. I miss you, non(less!)-cliched-writing.
119 hit(s) (0 comments) | leave comment  
eight.
countless tears
countless sorrows
countless lives and
countless morrows
countless days, yes
countless nights
countless heartches
countless flights

countless people all forgotten
countless hearts turned to rotten
countless memoirs and
countless words
countless scars, yes
countless hurts
countless mistakes
countless falls.

countless grey moons
countless nothings
countless people out there wishing and
countless people that are not living.
countless others no one knew, yes
countless pictures no one drew
countless drops of water dripping
countless pages so unforgiving

countless shoes
countless cravings
countless whores and
countless waiting
countless people feeling lonely, yes
countless moments we pass unknowing
countless shouts for something more
countless times they long to score

sometimes i can.t handle it all. i feel like i.m missing out on so much.
364 hit(s) (23 comments) | smash it up baby  
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1738 hit(s) (12 comments) | respond  
goodbye bye love.
Listening to: mirah-archipelago
i found myself 2 months ago. who would of thought i would be under my bed of all places.i thought i would of been in my closet.but nope i must of got angry at myself and desided to put it out of place.some were i wouldnt think never to look but i looked and found.so this leaves me to say three things.

1.my bed is not a good place to put myself when i get mad.

2.now that i have found it i dont need this journal to complain about my lose.

3.im back to my old journal. the journal where i had myself skin and all and to a nother journal where i started out from where i found myself.


anounsment: if you would like to know where that journals is ask and the comment you will resive by me will be from that old journal.

283 hit(s) (10 comments) | send  
[81]dog days of nothing
Listening to: pas de tout
this weekend bored the admiral greatly.

exams this week.
i
cannot
wait

but hopefully on friday i will get to go to kings dominion with caleb, andy, and nolan. so uh, wish me luck on my exams. and stuff.

-THE ADMIRAL
66 hit(s) (1 comments) | kill the hero  
Opening Day
Listening to: Metallica
Feeling: lackadaisical
Ricky wrote this one hope you enjoy...

Sometimes I
Feel the same way you do
I dont understand what
I need to do
But all I care about is you

But no you dont care about me
You ripped out my heart
You teared it apart
You think its all fun and games

I remember when your face was the sun
It was the same things we did until it was done

You said you cross your heart hope to die
But I never knew that you lied
How could you do this to me [x3]
You ripped out my heart
You tore it apart

But you dont care about that part-well that part
How could you do this to me [x2]
How could you
How could you do this to-my-heart
324 hit(s) (3 comments) | None the less  
Inconsistancy
Listening to: Pash
A chance encounter really throws you for a loop, doesn't it?
Weren't expecting you'd ever see me, were you?
Are you really that blind, that blissfully ignorant?
Invisibility prescriptions, secrecy indications; a failed endeavor.

We found each other.
So take the indication from above to assume responsibility.

But no, you write off this one in 1,000 chance.
What do you even expect me to believe anymore?
Silence gives way to false explanations.

You successfully destroyed any respect I once had for you.
So save your deceitful breath, bitch
Your words are meaningless to me now.
58 hit(s) (1 comments) | COMMENT-O  
seventy-three
for william, III

You asked me to write you poetry
Can't you see? I recite
verse every hour with my eyes
and hands, iambs of joy
that comes so easily in your presence
(and although you are away)
no duplication with ink
can mean more than our communion.
Take each kiss, instead,
as penned line of love.
A poem? I would rather give
my vision, that you might know
the way I see you;
I have no skill with rhyme, but one
moment will sing you odes and sonnets
more meaningful than words.

264 hit(s) (0 comments) | leave comment  
7:48 pm
I can't take you seriously, standing there with a buzzer in your hand. Skimming off the curls that I have run my fingers through, night after night.

Where do we go from here?

I play you Samson and sit, quietly, as you miss the symbolism.

137 hit(s) (1 comments) | 2/3  
So
I lied. How odd...
34 hit(s) (0 comments) | ::+::  
Despised Laughter

Haven't slept in a week; my bed has become my coffin.


Wednesday I went to a Lynard Skynard concert. Whee. I've never seen so many drunk and shirtless rednecks, most of which were smoking. Dreadful. The smell of weed was in the air. Middle aged rockers with grey beards and vintage shirts screamed wildly. Hippies walked through the crowd. Young children ran screaming. Most concert-goers donned all of their confederate flags and purchased concert tees. The day was warm. The air became too thick to breathe. People were thrown out before the band took the stage. As soon as our "Irony" was played we left. We departed as everyone was shouting 'Sweet home Alabama. Where the skies are so blue...' It faded into the distance and 'Freebird' soon followed. As we were walking out, a  man threw up his devil horns and shouted 'Yeah Marilyn Manson' into my face. I stopped and stared at him. He obviously had said it in a mocking tone since he did not appreciate Manson's works. After staring at him, he seemed nervous that I might do something atnd started to recoil. I just walked onward.


The one I love is striking me down on my knees.


Thursday I spent my time in Directed Study singing with Cera and Rio. We watched 'Shoes' and sang 'Hella Nervous'. We went through my wildlife and Cera shouted in about guineafowl and peafowl with an odd accent. We played with my newly made hair plugs. What odd ways we found to play with them. Julie made a yearbook, but the only picture she could find of me was from last year. It needs to be burned and never thought of again. I went home that evening and made two more Alices to accompany the first. Tonight I intend to make a fourth. I shall post the series once I have finished. I'll have to run out of ideas first, and there are plenty of centuries to abuse.


The one I love is drowning me in my dreams.


Today was long and boring. Nichole and I made lots of hair plugs in Study Hall. We had fun playing with my weave. I now have fifty seven hair plugs. I think I only twenty or so more. In gym I had drawn on my knees so you could see it as I was wearing my shorts whcih happened to be rolled up because the look ridiculous otherwise. I took off my shirt again to fix my tan lines. Damn those stupid lines. I think I started to burn finally. Just a bit. Tonight we went out for Chinese food and then to the Wal-Mart for a few things. We went in for a giant piece of meat (and some Elmer's Glue). We ended up with over a hundred dollars worth of things. Movies, meat, cereal and the like. I happened to find beautiful Deep Plum coloured fabric for a dollar a yard. I bought two. And this scrap of three-by-five feet of bright pink fabric. It was eight cents. Pretty Sweet.


Take my heart and take my soul; I don't need them anymore.


Tomorrow I intend togo shopping. Reenie can't go with me. I had already invited my Cera. I'm waiting for a reply. I'm going to have to find someone to go with me. Any volunteers? We're going to be shopping for vintage corsets and garter belts. Still no takers? Oh well. I wasn't able to find any good musical albums at Wal-Mart, so I have to search elsewhere. I need more shoes. Maybe I can find some tomorrow.


Emptiness, nothingness is burning a hole inside me.


"In a last flurry of black lace, scarlet beads, and excited whispers."


Take my fatih and take my pride; I don't need them anymore.


''He sat down, put his hands over his ears, and his elbows on his knees. He worshipped her. He murmured to himself over and over again that he worshipped her."


This bed has become my chapel of stone; a garden of darkness to where I'm thrown.


"When time or disease robbed them of their beauty, he served them still for their beauty's memory."


So take my life; I don't need it anymore.

115 hit(s) (2 comments) | leave comment  
Feeling: dull
I checked my phone to make sure it wasn't going to rain tonight so i didn't have to roll my windows up and cover the roof of my car. it leaks when it rains. so i checked it and it said that there was a zero percent chance of precipitation. it's storming outside. when i go to work in the morning, i'm going to have to wear a hat and a jacket so that my work clothes don't get wet. i'm so unbelievably angry right now. i checked the weather on my phone again and it just now updated and said theres a thunderstorm watch for my area. fuck you. fucking liar. i was suppose to go see Byron's new apartment tonight but now i can't because it's raining. something so natural and so trivial can so easily make me this angry. i don't even feel like going to get my xanex right now. they're in my glove compartment. fuck! i'm becoming more and more crazy by the day. not a day goes by where i don't think of this disorder. it's more accurately comparable to a flesh-eating disease. it feels like an unavoidable plague and i seems like everyone around you knows you have it, like it's so blantantly obvious, and there's just no escaping it. not to mention i feel like my body is doing the things that some other brain is telling it to do. like i'm outside looking in. then i'll finally come to and realise that i have no idea what my body was doing in my absence. it's one of the worst things that i've ever had to put up with. Borderline Personality Disorder. i highly don't recommend it.
119 hit(s) (1 comments) | resent me  
every so often
i wonder what happened to all those people i had forged typed connections with.

and if they ever wonder about me.

also... what's the deal with myspace? a website full of people determined to remind me when i worked so hard to forget them. it's only people i knew in "real" life trying to invade my computer reality. no thanks
316 hit(s) (2 comments) | bruise me  
[57]
Feeling: amused
hahaha... i love this song. "peacock skeleton with crooked fingers"-Blood Brothers. do yourself a favor and listen to it sometime.


If the sea shakes like an empty maraca
I know [x4]
and she falls in love with the sounds of ships sinking?
I know [x4]

Which peacock is beast? Which peacock is priest?
If the heavens part and nobody, nowhere, nothing,
every apartment is vacant, every home for rent?
Hey Peacock?
What's that?
I just want to know what your feathers are made out of.
Is it bruises or roses or cradles or coffins? (It's all those!)
Which peacock is beast? Which peacock is priest?
If your friends are all cripple, all wither, all wilt,
I know [x4]
and you smile at their pain on your angel bone stilts.
I know [x4]
Which peacock is beast? Which peacock is priest?

If the brick you throw puts a bullet in your skull
and a police boot lands atop your gaping jaw?
Hey Peacock?
What's that?
I just wanna know what the babies mouth is full of.
Is it flies or cries or straw?
Which peacock is beast? Which peacock is priest?
Which peacock's police? Which peacock is thief?

If machine guns come knock, knock, knocking
Who's cashing out your bad luck?
If wedding bells sound like death knells baby
is a wealthy groom worth all this gloom?
If tuxedos slither off corpses
and copulate wild on wedding cake
and the priest starts snapping photos?
There's a peacock on your shoulder
pole dancing around your neck
while reciting the Book of Revelation.

So who do you love?
Who do you trust when your friends take a match to your front lawn?
A panicked face makes the peacock proud.
So who do you love? Who do you trust?
Who do you kill when your senator drags out your first born?
A panicked face makes the peacock proud.

If the forests turn to static and the gnarled branches, too?
I know [x4]
Your body starts to fall into a concrete tutu?
I know [x4]
which peacock is beast? which peacock is priest?

If you strike for better wages at the cola factory
and they drink champagne as they kick in your teeth?
Hey Peacock?
What's that?
I just wanna know what his blood tasted like.
Was it like sugar or vinegar or whiskey or dirt? (It's all those!)
Which peacock is beast? Which peacock is priest?


If machine guns come knock, knock, knocking
Who's cashing out your bad luck?
If wedding bells sound like death knells baby
is a wealthy groom worth all this gloom?
If tuxedos slither off corpses
and copulate wild on wedding cake
and the priest starts snapping photos?
There's a peacock on your shoulder
pole dancing around your neck
while reciting the Book of Revelation.

Things are never what they seem, the peacocks static melodies.


So who do you love?
Who do you trust when your friends take a match to your front lawn?
A panicked face makes the peacock proud.
So who do you love? Who do you trust?
Who do you kill when your senator drags out your first born?
A panicked face makes the peacock proud.
161 hit(s) (0 comments) | rendrmebrethles  
realized
Does anyone realized that all my entries are dated August 13th?
72 hit(s) (2 comments) | jump and dance  
NEW SITDAIRY!!!!
It is listed under sorian

sorian

thats it just

sorian

ok ^_^
381 hit(s) (0 comments) | this life  
 
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