Heh.

*fusses Gnash's hair a bit*

(I seduce my reflection when there's no one around)


(we go mono a mono on a bed of nails)


(word)

I did read this topic from end-to-end, but neither end made sense, my friend.

Twas in the mission statement, old chap, that here nonsense will catch no flack.

Especially if it is nocturnal nonsense.

No I ain't gonna die in this hospital, you're gonna take me back outside.

The rain makes everyone look like a mourner, we covet the chance for sorrows which are not our own; if I remain in this place, I will mourn you, and I do not wish to, yet.

The words written on my hand are hard to say;

To be in the heart's den, where only Death will tell the truth.

Death cannot tell truth to anyone listening.

Usually I forget that some flaws are chosen. Sometimes you suddenly realize that a person has a lot more depth than you thought, and he has seen enough things go wrong with the life that he actually chose the personality he wanted to adopt. This is easy to forget, that some people are the way they are because they chose to and not because they can't help it.

I hate being haunted by the past. It's such a beginner's mistake.

(Derail: You can compare life to anything. That's probably because life is the only thing you actually can't compare to anything else, nothing else is on equal footing with life. So we, not really ironically, make up thousands of metaphors for life. When you're some lonely bastard who only ever had two loves he ever truly (keyword: truly) fought for in his life, one having failed tremendously and the other being the art of physically harming people, you can only come up with a few metaphors for life that you think are perfect.
This whole paragraph was to justify, with all the terrible connotations of this verb, the next sentence. I would've felt cocky if I hadn't wrote it, mind you. Derail end.)

Anyway, I've practiced enough martial arts to know that beginner's mistakes are not only the mistakes with the most catastrophic consequences, they're the hardest ones to overcome, and the ones that take the longest to go away.

Boy, I am truly terrible at this, ain't I? I couldn't use devilish clever figures of speech or beautifully crafted sentences if my life depended on it.

why is there a police van sitting outside flashing it's lights at 1.10am? i never post here but i have to post somewhere because it's literally doing my head in, i have a headache now. f*ck.

Put on some happy hardcore and pretend that you are at a rave.

What, did all the insomniacs up and get prescriptions?

Pull yourselves apart, lads, there's mania to be managed.

Come down of your cross, we could use the wood.
Come on up to the house.

Of Love & Other Demons:

Exorcism by any means.

I just slept 14 hours, so I don't know if I'm allowed to post in here.

Everything is surreal. Anything is new. And nothing is clear.
People trying to brainwash you from both sides – or are they really?
All that you are is being torn apart from you, but only without this hull can you search for yourself.
Who is going to find it?
Oh, and my head hurts.

http://www.allbookshelves.com/Parker-Ho ... R1286.html

It is in this hour, late, with car alarms in concert with the wind's tin-whistle, that I realize my highest and only aspiration in life is merely to own this.

Somehow the only respects I pay are to my books.

5 AM

This is the hour in which lambs will live
or die, slipping to pastures, slick
with dew and blood. A ragged hour,
of coarse rope nooses slung to beams
and dreams gone bad; when sleep
becomes a foggy myth, and the mind
fires random shots in the failing dark.
The grey hour, in which it is said the soul
is anchored loosely in flesh, more often
set adrift by the pull of the magnetic tide.
In this hour, the clocks tick too loudly,
no bird awake to break a monotonous
lack of living sound. This is the hour
in which wretched poets are bloated
with liquor and genius, both pissed out
long before light cracks the window.

12 hours ago.

Dispossess me of belief:
between life and me obtrude
no symbolic forms:

grant me no mission: let my
mystic talents be beasts
in dark trees: thin the wire

I limp in space, melt it
with quick heat, let me walk
or fall alone: fail

me in all comforts:
hide renown behind the tomb:
withdraw beyond all reach of faith:

leave me this black rich country,
uncertainty, labor, fear: do not
steal the rewards of my mortality.

Am I the only person who goes through a personality shedding period?

As in when I'm about to experience something that will change me forever, I go completely blank for some time before the event.