(no subject)
For the record. I hate myspace.
I wasn't missing it. Those spaces seemed to take more and more out of my deprivation. I'm knocked out on the edge of the mattress and all I can hear are those hollow spaces between the chaotic resonance of static vibrations in my ears. It's like shock therapy the way the screams come and go with no steady time stamp. The rapture of this makes my eyes fill with blood and my veins bulge and contort in fashions reminiscent of a bloated spider web.
There are plants that take years to grow an inch and even longer for you to fully appreciate their beauty. I can't take you in. I can't breath your air or trust your hands. I don't know you like I know my soul. How your mind wanders when a crowded room of people are all that surrounds you. Your interactions like an insectivorous plant entrapping my mind. my body. my soul. Will you let me breath beneath the surface of your sensitive blades?
Where is this sleep that I was thinking of? Imploded against this pillow and my thoughts are dripping from my pores. I'm wet and agile and it's nothing but that noise keeping me from solidity. I can't seem to get my thoughts in order these days. I just sail along with the standard of becoming. And I don't trust them; I probably never will.
Shanks are trembling in anticipation amidst the dance of courtship. Why can this not work against all odds? I'm in a room full of negative space and the juxtaposition between the frame and my arms is enough to write a sonnet. The dark is working overtime;
I'm giving up the ghost.
I wasn't missing it. Those spaces seemed to take more and more out of my deprivation. I'm knocked out on the edge of the mattress and all I can hear are those hollow spaces between the chaotic resonance of static vibrations in my ears. It's like shock therapy the way the screams come and go with no steady time stamp. The rapture of this makes my eyes fill with blood and my veins bulge and contort in fashions reminiscent of a bloated spider web.
There are plants that take years to grow an inch and even longer for you to fully appreciate their beauty. I can't take you in. I can't breath your air or trust your hands. I don't know you like I know my soul. How your mind wanders when a crowded room of people are all that surrounds you. Your interactions like an insectivorous plant entrapping my mind. my body. my soul. Will you let me breath beneath the surface of your sensitive blades?
Where is this sleep that I was thinking of? Imploded against this pillow and my thoughts are dripping from my pores. I'm wet and agile and it's nothing but that noise keeping me from solidity. I can't seem to get my thoughts in order these days. I just sail along with the standard of becoming. And I don't trust them; I probably never will.
Shanks are trembling in anticipation amidst the dance of courtship. Why can this not work against all odds? I'm in a room full of negative space and the juxtaposition between the frame and my arms is enough to write a sonnet. The dark is working overtime;
I'm giving up the ghost.