there are very little things scarier than a man who has lost all drive and passion.

it is time to pick up the pieces, like how we’ve done a million times before. slowly, except time is against me.

i see right through your facade

fuck la, stop lying can? your silence is a lie, the biggest one of all. fuck this shit.

i have the nagging feeling that i’m holding on to something that isn’t there anymore.

shame on you if you fool me once, shame on me if you fool me twice.

FUFILL YOUR PROMISE, TELL THE TRUTH TO MY FACE

I have a sick feeling in the gut at this very moment and I think I know why. You know, its sometimes so certain that it’s hard to call it a premonition, just a natural progression of things. Maybe its deja vu. Everything that has transpired comes back and replays itself, like a roadshow vcr on repeat from part a to b, stagnant. Everything feels so familiar, untouched in its entirety. You feel unreal and powerless, so much so that you feel that you’re merely an observer, not the participant, since nothing you can do can change anything anyway. It is beyond being defeatist, it is being realistic. It is your fault and yet, it’s mine as well and there are words that cannot be spoken. Ah, the mortal dangers of words left unsaid, the web of doubt and deceit that springs forth from it and that unravels itself exquisitely, knowing the delicious venom it hides within, venom that is enough to kill me over and over and over and trust me, it will. And yet you know not, or you pretend to know not and carry on this masquerade where everything is alright and I’m forced to play my role to perfection because after all, it takes two hands to clap, doesn’t it. The sick feeling is gone now, replaced with a chill colder than  the solstice  itself , doing a  circuit course  down my back. The coldness is reflected in your eyes, hidden partly from view by a smile that seems to become more of a sneer the more I look at it. I’m sick of this pretense and yet I embrace it and crave it because it is within all of us to put on a show like Macbeth observed.

BREAK FREE. NOW.

Protected: .

This post is password protected. To view it please enter your password below:

Password:

fucking disappointing. i m sick of guessing.

A DAY LATE

Could have been more but at least you’re still my day late friend

i wish i had more supportive parents instead of parents that think that i’m a worthless sonofabitch. but its okay.

its that fucked up attitude that kills it for everyone, innit?

we all know.

oh, billy corgan writes very well, as i found out very recently. and his voice is an acquired taste. so yes i’m finally getting to know the smashing pumpkins properly, at last.

“Cupid De Locke”

Cupid hath pulled back his sweetheart’s bow
To cast divine arrows into her soul
To grab her attention swift and quick
Or morrow the marrow of her bones be thick
With turpentine kisses and mistaken blows

See the devil may do as the devil may care
He loves none sweeter as sweeter the dare
Her mouth the mischief he doth seek
Her heart the captive of which he speaks
So note all ye lovers in love with the sound
Your world be shattered with nary a note
Of one cupids arrow under your coat

And in the land of star crossed lovers
And barren hearted wanderers
Forever lost in forsaken missives and satan’s pull
We seek the unseekable and we speak the unspeakable
Our hopes dead gathering dust to dust
In faith, in compassion, and in love