| ... |


iggy popyou're odd when you move. it's like watching time disperse inward rapidly.iggy pop


last night's tsunamiThe water was rising. It was coming fast, quick, quick, like breathing it just kept coming.last night's tsunami
Ice cold black waters swelling and swallowing up land steadily. Land already scorched, sluicing away in a perpetual incoming tide. Trees reduced to twisted corpses, buildings to broken iron skeletons, concrete to sand. The sky had turned a deep, dark purple, lifeless and stagnant. The sun was blood. The moon was black. The stars were dead.
I stood half-naked somewhere amidst this on solid ground, body feeling like pins-and-needles drugged against the elements and destruction. My half-open eyes watched the black waters wash ove


schitzophreniai know you're tired. i know. your eyes tell me. your hands shiverschitzophrenia
like lilting flowers against your temples. you look a right messssssssmy dear. that hot brain of yours
and all it's haywire signals reaching out for the calm and the cool. i watched you recoil as one by one by one the tsunamis came
and ate your perimortem existence. all you love and all you hate
eaten alive by the sea. i know you're tired. i know you're anxious. i know you're frightened. but just think, when this is all over, you'll be lonely,


the last ditch efforti'm sitting here dead weight to the center of the earth penning my final killer.the last ditch effort
my mind has decided to leave me behind today; says i'm a wasted cliff-note in a pointless history. i wished i was worthy of father's love, and a force of nature to be trembled under... if not a pedestrian wolf in sheepskin. i'm tired of the sun and how much it burns. i'm done with the sounds of traffic and tide running me right down and by. my eyes are lost in a dull and lifeless sky. it's a mirage i see through daily life. clinging to futile comforts
like driftwood in the open sea. &


.cruelty.you are two way traffic.cruelty.
forced on a one way street.
you rip my heart out, toss it over your shoulder, and demand i clean it up.


my block of the writing kindhere i sit.my block of the writing kind
place might as well be empty,
the way i stare at this screen,
frying my retinas like little robin's eggs
to the cathode-ray tunes.
there's no sound for abject dejection is there?
no numb vocalization standing directly for
"i feel useless,
apathetic,
creatively stagnant and so sparsely equipped
that i can barely nod
in the affirmative or shake
in the negative."
i guess not.
those demons i so lovingly coddle
are lonesome and mute.
keep looking at me,
i can see them over my shoulder,
they look at me with


run while standing stilli'm wounded you liar i'm muted you sneak i'm bound you desire i'm ruined you just feed that worm within you and burn all ground leading home down screamingrun while standing still
for christ's sake don't leave me here i have nothing left and all i am is choking on the eggshells of this pithy existence don't waste my time don't pander to my crimes don't try to confide your shadow still stains my walls like murder in the summer
and all i can do is destruct while standing
all i can do is worry all i can do is hurry all i can do is nothing all i can do is


letter from the irsso i got a letter from the irs today...letter from the irs
"dear working poor vermin,
this is to inform you that although you make less in a year than a vietnamese prostitute with a bad case of the clap, your economic relief PAYMENT will be barely 3 bills and you will be incredibly lucky to receive it by the 27th of this month. if you do not receive another notice from us in, say, oh, another six months, then consider yourself ultimately screwed over by the government tax franchise, politely bend over, grab your ankles and welcome the audit we will be impending on you next april 15th. have a well-stacked day! -the feds"
i


damian diabloni want you to look at me --your bleeding heart dripping from tender prey lips-- i want you to show me --your eyes alight with desirous reverence-- i want you to bow to me --my rightful claim to yours that's most precious and pure-- i want you to belong to me --already mine i just tremble at the words from your throat--damian diablon


The ConductorThe middle-aged secretary was staring at me from her desk, I could feel it. I took a deep breath and looked at the shining steel toes of my boots, thinking maybe shed get bored of me and look at her typewriter or the fresh coffee stain on the front of her shirt. But she didnt stop. I glanced up to cloudy sapphire eyes with red lines in the whites peering at me over pearlescent-rimmed reading glasses on a rainbow-beaded chain. The scrunched expression of dislike on her puffy face was palpable enough the moment I stepped into the offices, but now, she was just being rude.The Conductor
My head jerked up and I sneered at her di
| semi-autobiographical... what happens when the school councelor is the devil? |
| DgenRetEliteRabbit, or just rabbit: a nervy, obsessive, punchy little woodland critter with a compulsion to write curiousities, blast at targets in the snow, listen to too much rock music, watch too much television, and photograph grainy life. enjoys the pithy little moments in life that define confusion and substance. obsesses on William Fichtner, Young Ones, Queensryche, Alice Cooper, 24, house md, residents, tool, soad, dead kennedys, x, bill the cat, the husband of doom worship, rosemary's billygoat, tulsa skull swingers, ww2 was fun, youtuberculosis, and anything that's pretty much out of the ordinary... i am a tattooed slumdog, the female tomboy, a ridiculous weirdo, inadvertant kennel techie, complete superfluous goofball, i am a total loon. |
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many tenderpeaces to you
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Jack Vaulhartz AKA Master Of None AKA Rubiks Cupid AKA Gunchild Godmonkey
--
when one candle is used to light another, the new flame is not the same as the old flame, and yet the first flame directly causes the second.
--
[Prose|Digital Art|Traditional Art|Photography] [link]
In Soviet Russia, emo cuts you!
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