

DecomposeDrown me so that my name is not forgotten Let the the books of history become rotten I am the beginning of the last fall I try harder not to become me, I'd rather not be any part of your art Hopeless contradiction makes it seem prettyDecompose
There's no point in the direction My nervous demeanor makes me mysterious? No, it frustrates the intention of my life Mystery is not so much attractive as the subject itself knows not the subject is just confused
Lay me down and let me rot Let my stomach pulse Let the earth open Let it take me Let me rot


Lost Progress It Not EnoughYour neck cracks with your open eyes laid down upon the burning pavement wishing there was no such thing as a shattered bone or a broken heart.Lost Progress It Not Enough
The ribs of sacrifice have froze up before the fleeting birds soared higher than they ever could imagine in their wildest dreams they saw
the end of all things raining down on the emperor's throne.
The greedy lips stopped moving as they kissed the cage that held the lion safe from the glaring eyes of the spectator's amused boys and girls chasing each other 'round and around the fi
Red3

Huddled in the Dark: GloveletsHuddled Masses crouched in Dirty alleyways. they turn the Trash into books, and the Trash cans into armour.Huddled in the Dark: Glovelets
I met a man, 57, gray hair, old.
He was Unbearably Sad.
He was an Astronaut.
At least that's what he told me.
I pictured him as a Vietnam War Veteran, because when I asked him about his shuttle missions, he told me "Space is nice, but you've gotta watch out for all them goddamn gooks and their boobytraps."
He said he had a daughter. From what he told me she was beautiful.
she had auburn hair down to her ankles. she danced in the


Little One.Hold on, Hold on little girl, I'm just a little boy, and I've always been here.Little One.
I'm a little boy with marker on my face and chocolate cake on my fingers. I'm a little boy with an imagination and a cap-gun. I'm a little boy with a shovel and a bucket, digging up worms in my sandbox. I'm a little boy with a plastic tool-set. But I'm ready for anything. I'm a little boy hiding from lightning, and dancing in puddles. I'm a little boy playing hide - and - seek, though I'm scared to death of the dark in this closet. I'm a little boy climbing trees in my bare feet, though I'm scared to death of
also look at the links at the bottom of the journal.
this guys a saint.
--
Bitches.
Cold Blooded.
Dead Branches.
Ghetto.
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