

JuxtaposeResonant starlight lays itself thick,Juxtapose
like paint, on the emptiness of things. In the quiet, there is hearing. The utter silence holds the purest heart. We have never not been starlight,
scorching our surroundings in search of fuel. And the circles within spill like spinning discs, pouring the paths of neurons into the dark horizon. This is what it is to be hollow. How, in even
the simplest space, there is an eternity to breathe in. Wild roots branch and feather, seeking water to draw to source. We are desperate in misconceptions. See the fire which does not burn. It is


FightingKeep stolen, you instance of truth, Abreast like the nightly ripcurls.Fighting
Put your hand into my olive skin and crimp my pearled shine. Wince to my chagrin. Deep in the cold prod, look for
my feathered enmity.
And fork the asking to bide the answer. Take left. Take left and pray. No shine so light could leave the spray of three thoughts less. Could peel the give from honest's best.
There are no stairs. There are only rememberings. Grim memories spent living on a fence with the grave on either side. No clay could recreate our diction. The bed


AwkwardWordless whispers couldn't picture this guise. Soft and a staleness. Piety. I placed my faith in the Hoyt's Five and Ten. My biggest gamble came in the form of a gumball, sitting falselyAwkward
in my wretched hand.
Where once I drifted with irreproachable hope, I come suddenly under a blue sound spell. A coarse, ticketless ride.
Five nights will find me licking the glue from my palm, a scattered sense of survival. A remand of modest
recourse. Reciting the poorest of choice. Out where never would find me, exactly as I'd left it.
To the moon. Give it one mor


i read your workI am left handed,i read your work
but open doors like a white man,
I wont write or title anything about knees-
and reserve the patience of pollen in a beeless world,
I've been advised by light to carry a camera whenevr possible so i
can misspell my insanity...
... so i can burn the abandoned cowboy boots to the collective... someone
somewhere has a compass with a weak magnet
and bare feet...
- critmass nov 25 2008


I'd gut that hill just to --And whenever I think of writing it up I'm torn; torn like birthday cake and buttons. I doubt you're half as composed as you don't wanna pretend. But it's okay like breathing is okay, like writing is. If you want to be angry and dazed but not enough to think twice when you peel a mirror out the envelope or the brick or the sweating man --- think Star wars. I don't mean any specific scene just, you know, think about the movie. When I talk to people at class, it is contrived as anything. I am so gullible as to fall for tricks and all the backwards cheer of people I look down at. Not that I sI'd gut that hill just to --
--
Brecht- Because things are the way they are, things will not stay the way they are
Fallout 2 - Destruction of the Enclave erased all trace of President Richardson from history. Now the title of President is used simply as a bogeyman to frighten children
become their roadie
visit me
???
profit
--
hakuna matata? | daily lubbing
--
"I've taken enough walks alone
to know how real nothing is."
~dystopian-dream-girl
--
"I've taken enough walks alone
to know how real nothing is."
~dystopian-dream-girl
--
"I've taken enough walks alone
to know how real nothing is."
~dystopian-dream-girl
--
To twist one purest cause
Into an honest verse,
Itself, a call to angels.
The saddened lips of song that
Kiss away our innocence
From the vile mundane.
~justb
--
"I've taken enough walks alone
to know how real nothing is."
~dystopian-dream-girl
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