4:01 am
if the moment had a sountrack it'd be the black keys' "strange times". because we need to dance, too.
in the eyes of God, what does the death of nobody means? dude overdosed, they carried his body to the beach out of fear; he died. they say he is burning in hell. she was very pretty, but was gang-raped and is confined to a wheel chair. plus the beating didn't help, and it mutated her smile. not into romanticism, but one thing leads to another; "have you seen my bottle of sleeping pills"; another statistic (and numbers are not fun). they say, THEY say, she's probably burning in the lowest pits of hell. "...what all these deaths mean in the light of love of the Creator who brought them all into being; who brought me into being; and you." they are burning in hell.
i am audience and accomplice to some of the world's most heinous crimes. as half-author, and fond of a "shapeshifting" form-- just literary devices being exploited, style for the sake of style-- i never question the death of my babies. my problem is structure, really. i cannot provide them with enough calcium to fortify their little bones. inevitably, their frame and structure just collapses. eventually. but the futile attempts to keep them alive is fun, though. very much. like a doctor keeping a patient alive through a machine. there's always the child-like hope that they're going to wake up and grow up. the smileys to the right are beginning to *tick* me off.
i don't understand many things that are important. but i know if human hands touch someone i love, with harmful intentions, i will release twenty six years of death upon their immortal ruins. and i like music, so i'll have a choir of firearms provide it. their work is cliche for a good reason.
now my chin hurts again, and i'm spitting blood again, and i refuse to capitalize. you can connect the dots now.
if the moment had a sountrack it'd be the black keys' "strange times". because we need to dance, too.
in the eyes of God, what does the death of nobody means? dude overdosed, they carried his body to the beach out of fear; he died. they say he is burning in hell. she was very pretty, but was gang-raped and is confined to a wheel chair. plus the beating didn't help, and it mutated her smile. not into romanticism, but one thing leads to another; "have you seen my bottle of sleeping pills"; another statistic (and numbers are not fun). they say, THEY say, she's probably burning in the lowest pits of hell. "...what all these deaths mean in the light of love of the Creator who brought them all into being; who brought me into being; and you." they are burning in hell.
i am audience and accomplice to some of the world's most heinous crimes. as half-author, and fond of a "shapeshifting" form-- just literary devices being exploited, style for the sake of style-- i never question the death of my babies. my problem is structure, really. i cannot provide them with enough calcium to fortify their little bones. inevitably, their frame and structure just collapses. eventually. but the futile attempts to keep them alive is fun, though. very much. like a doctor keeping a patient alive through a machine. there's always the child-like hope that they're going to wake up and grow up. the smileys to the right are beginning to *tick* me off.
i don't understand many things that are important. but i know if human hands touch someone i love, with harmful intentions, i will release twenty six years of death upon their immortal ruins. and i like music, so i'll have a choir of firearms provide it. their work is cliche for a good reason.
now my chin hurts again, and i'm spitting blood again, and i refuse to capitalize. you can connect the dots now.
