Breath in for luck. breath in so deep this air is blessed, you share with me. This night is wild, come and dull these hearts they race from self-control. your legs are smooth as they graze mine, we're doing..... nothing at all.

The night is full of mystery. Even when the moon is brightest, secrets hide everywhere. Then the sun rises and its rays cast so many shadows that the day creates more illusions than all the veiled truth of the night.

Don't be afraid!
i love you.

Infatuation is blind and it likes to stay that way. It doesn't look at reality.

I should've seen the signs all around me, but i was comfortable inside these walls.

An angels crime:
An angel tantalizes me with heaven's fire, to covet a life just beyond my grasp. Years paint the path of forbidden desire, as his wings burn my skin. Woe to you, forbidden, Angel, oh blissful agony drown my cries, expose my souls ravenous despair, gratify me with your wings afire.

I'll fight, i'll defend, i'll stand my ground, i'll do what i need to succeed and believe you won't leave.

The silence, it tells a story you don't want to hear.
The silence, it screams a tale you can't bare to hear.
The silence, it says what you can't.

my head in the clouds, my mind in the rain, my heart in the storm, myself in pain.

There is not privacy that cannot be penitrated,
no secrets kept in the civilized world

Fill your empty room with the sun.!!1!.

can it be?

Then and now, i can honestly say, i am hooked. Fascinated by his charm. Curious of his parting. In love with the smell that radiated from him. It is impossible 2 describe with words. too good to be true, amazing.
most of that stil holds true. Only now i know. If i had the choice change that, to take the other path, i do not think i would. This path is hard, but nothing can be worse than not knowing who he was. Or maybe what is a better question; one i never would have thought to ask had it not been for the next night.

Maybe i should hate you for this, never really did ever quite get that far.

You put yourself in stupid places. Yes, i think you know it's true. Situations where it's easy 2 look down on you. I think you like 2 be the victim. Think you like 2 be in pain. I think you make yourself the victim, almost every single day. You do what you do, say what you say. You try 2 be everything 2 everyone. You know all the right ppl, you play all the right games. Always try 2 be everything 2 everyone. Yeah you do it again. You always do it again.

failure

i can hear the heart beating in your chest, it makes me aware your alive.
that there is life is your body.
flowing through your veins is the blood of a thousand failures, and just as many have givin up.
you'll be different, i tell myself...i tell you.
i shall tell the world.
you can prove them wrong..
you can live without the sorrow;
you can live with the happiness.
you can forget that the chances are screaming for your faiure.
you tell me you know you can.
"i did," you say.
i strive to believe you.
you lied to me.
your lies, your ghost,
will forever haunt me...
your blood flows in my veins,
the blood of a thousand
..failures

hearts

"there are only two kinds of tragadies in life :

• one is to lose what our heart desires
• the other is t gain it"

it is clear, that though i don't know who originally said this, that he's had his heart broken. must suck. music will always be the best medicine. ; )

hooker mcdonald

i don't really have any new writings....
but i would like to say:

"i only burn bridges so that i can build new ones that can burn only bigger and brighter"

-hooker mcdonald (holly)

when i'm with you: the stars are dull and the sunsets are boring because the only thing i see is you"

-same

"if your gonna crash and burn, you might as well do it gracefully."

-same

hooker and i haven't been friends more then 2yrs, but her writing - not just her quotes that happen to find their way to the page of my journal - but her writin, so in deph and inspiring. she inspires me to keep writing and face the truth, eve when i'd rather curl up with my bag facing it. she helps with the blocks i come across.

i just want to give her her props. : ) and maybe i can get my hands on her main work....

sid vicious

"we had a death pact, i have to keep my half of the bargin. please bury me (pto) next to my baby, bury me in my leather jacket, jeans, and motorcyle boots. goodbye." - sid vicous ( the sex pistols ) suicide letter
sid died at the age of 21, of a herion over dose.

in previous yrs sid was a laid back guy who often siad things like " i'll die b4 i'm 25, and when i do i'll have lived the way i wanted to," and "today everything's a conplict of intrest"

sid vicous had suffered a tragic loss, his girlfriend was found stabbed to death in their hotel room the previous febuary. :( sid was arrested on suspison, even worse.

i can still hear nosies

life is just a noise, listen to the noise, it may trick you at times, but it's always chattering ], always sounding alarms of departure and alarms of warning as well as lust.
weather you listen to the alarms or not, they'll be there, telling you to make choices- some you may not want to make. i use to listen to the noise, but now i believe it's just that- noise.
endless chattering; endless voices chattering into the distance, and yet they sound so close- almost as if right outside of your ear... or even just in your head...
believe in your noise. it believes you to be there, listening, always listening.. weather truth or lie, wrong or right...you contribute to that endless noise.
-hannah kirkland ( wrote on january13, o9)

immortal!!!

I detest life-insurance agents; they always argue that I shall some day die, which is not so.
Stephen Leacock (1869 - 1944)
ironic. this dudes like "i shall not die"
well he did live like 75 years so thats pretty good, i guess. considering everything.... i wonder how he died...
i am going to google it.
brb

[This, my little Jane, is why Pauper Children have to die.Pauper Children underfedDie delirious in Bed;Thus at Malthus's CommandMatch Supply with true Demand. (Oh! Mr. Malthus!, 23-28) ] stephen leacock was a poet!!!


(these aren't by stephen leacock, just the one above)

Let the boy try along this bayonet-blade
How cold steel is, and keen with hunger of blood;
Blue with all malice, like a madman's flash;
And thinly drawn with famishing for flesh.
Lend him to stroke these blind, blunt bullet-heads
Which long to muzzle in the hearts of lads.
Or give him cartridges of fine zinc teeth,
Sharp with the sharpness of grief and death.
For his teeth seem for laughing round an apple.
There lurk no claws behind his fingers supple;
And God will grow no talons at his heels,
Nor antlers through the thickness of his curls.



What thou lovest well remains, the rest is drossWhat thou lov'st well shall not be reft from theeWhat thou lov'st well is thy true heritageWhose world, or mine or theirs or is it of none?First came the seen, then thus the palpable Elysium, though it were in the halls of hell,What thou lovest well is thy true heritageWhat thou lov'st well shall not be reft from thee
(EZRA POUND, PISAN CANTOS, LXXXI)



"well stephen died of throat cancer on March 28"
now you know