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You want me to tell you everytYou want me to tell you everything. But I can’t. You wouldn’t understand. And what I have told you has made you really sad. You’re already mad. You don’t understand and can’t stand what I did. But nether do I. you can’t understand because you only know half. But that other half would make you really sad. Really mad. Even if I told you, you wouldn’t believe me. I can’t stand that. So I had a plan. A plan that went really really bad. Now we’re all sad. And that’s why you’re sad. Now you don’t trust me. You think I’m going mad. And that makes me more sad. You think I can’t be left alone. But that’s a bunch of bull. I wish I never would have didYou want me to tell you everyt
by ~thepunkrocker27
...I sit and I am sad at my sitting. The day grows around me like a movie in slow motion. As I’m stuck in my thoughts. The thoughts of what I did, and what I’m doing. The day is changing but my thoughts aren’t leaving. Sitting there, teasing me, hunting me, hurting me, and tormenting me. Making me feel guilty, sad, and trapped. Going over and over again like a caracal or a song on repeat. I beg them to leave me alone and go away. But who am I kidding; they wouldn’t give me the satisfaction of that. I’ll just have to stay trapped… suffocated. As it takes over my life inch by inch. Will they ever leave me alone or will they stay till the grave? Wi...
by ~thepunkrocker27
The innocents of a babyThe innocents of a babyThe innocents of a baby
The innocents of a baby. The frailer from the father. The murder cased by the mother. The sadness and pain that now hurts the mother. The hunting cries that will not go away. The guilt and shame she feels. The questions she now asks herself. “Would she have made a good mother? Could she have given the baby everything it would need? Would the baby like her? Would the baby love her? Could she give the baby all the love it would need?” Then she finds out what the sex of the baby would have been. A girl! A girl! The mother knows what she would have named the baby. Now the questions intensify. “What would she l
by ~thepunkrocker27
Favourites
Crossfire Love Looking at you is like being underwater. My mind is thick and I’m short of air. I need to tell you something. I have admired you from afar for so long. I pass you going down the street and I can’t help but stare, transfixed by your polished look and sensual shape. I find myself lost in your french vanilla smell and God when I hear your purr, your growl, I know that we belong cradled into each others curves. Now that we’ve finally met, my heart settles in my palms and with each beat secretes enough sweat to remind me of the desire. I know that it’s burninCrossfire Love
by ~Doomeister
havent been on
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Devious Info
- Favourite movie: Life As A House, The Butterfly Effect, Nightmare Before Christmas
- Favourite artist: my mom(i dont know)
- Favourite poet or writer: Frank Perrti
- MP3 player of choice: I-Pod
- Favourite game: too many to chose from
- Favourite cartoon character: Bart Simpson, Stewie Griffin, Kenny
- Yahoo: the_punk_rocker_27
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The aim of every artist is to arrest motion, which is life, by artificial means and hold it fixed so that a hundred years later, when a stranger looks at it, it moves again since it is life.
Poets do not go mad; Mathematicians go mad.
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what dosent kill you makes you stronger
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The aim of every artist is to arrest motion, which is life, by artificial means and hold it fixed so that a hundred years later, when a stranger looks at it, it moves again since it is life.
Poets do not go mad; Mathematicians go mad.
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!!!!!SLUM LORD!!!!!
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what dosent kill you makes you stronger
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!!!!!SLUM LORD!!!!!
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