“Mischief managed ( Read more... )

“Basic rule of advertising and eternal damnation: Once you sell your soul to the devil, he holds the copyright ( Read more... )

“When I think of black penis, I dunno. For some reason, I kinda think of burnt sausage ( Read more... )

“Thus conscience does make cowards out of us.”
- Brian Kinney (QAF)

I declare, I’m supposed to be writing Tasha a love poem but, I don’t feel all loving and mushy right now. I feel aggravated to be honest. I want out of all of this. *points* Yup, all of it. I cranked out something on the poetry front but it’s gonna take me a second to perfect it. It ( Read more... )

“Of course the good news is once you’ve hit the bottom, you can’t go any lower.”
- Brian Kinney (QAF)

Ya know, I’ve been out of it these last couple days.
Sorry. Perseriously (Yes, I know. Not a word, Julian. Don’t you have something else to do?) wasn’t trying to neglect home. Just been in a bit of a rut lately. I dunno. Probably need to work on the ( Read more... )

“I don’t believe in love, I believe in fucking. It’s honest… it’s efficient. You get in and out with a maximum of pleasure and a minimum of bullshit. ”
- Brian Kinney

David thinks I oughta stop posting my poetry on here. He said people might steal it. Uh, it’s not that great. Who would wanna steal my depression? That seems so pointless. If somebody ( Read more... )

“Do anything, say anything, and fuck anything. No excuses, no apologies, no regrets.”
- Brian Kinney

I wrote a poem at like, 2 in the morning. It’s called “Silence Speaks.” For once, I wrote a poem not based on anyone. It was based on something. Like, I’d just gotten off the phone with David and I was laying on the floor thinking about how quiet it ( Read more... )

“How old is he today anyway ( Read more... )

One Brave Soldier
Snow flurries to the ground, but it doesn’t stop the war. Snow crunches beneath their feet, still yet, soldiers move forward.
Gunshots blast through open air. Men dive to the ground, desperate to get out the way.
Blood splatters against stone streets, not everyone could get away. One soldier stands his ground, refusing to cower in ( Read more... )

How Are You
How are you?
They form the question casually on their lip, it only takes a second to let the inquiry slip.
Can’t you hear my voice? Why can’t you tell?
What do I have to do to make the world see, I’m no longer in here, that I’m no longer me?
We walk through our day to day as some sort of shell, each of us hiding our own personal hell. ( Read more... )