my tummybox feels broken. |
i had another dream about it last night.
stuck inside an abandoned house, its vast expanse.
in a snowstorm so very late at night. it sounds like something from
a hammer horror movie.
me and ch...
Posted by Sherlock Thinks He Knows Everything on Mon, 01 Jan 1900 12:00:00 PST |
bloated, bagged and left by the side of the road. |
I wont take up too much of your time. there is either not enough of it or too much. i see freinds fall face down into graves like dominoes while my grandparents whom i tend to now live on, and on, a...
Posted by Sherlock Thinks He Knows Everything on Mon, 01 Jan 1900 12:00:00 PST |
a little bird, she died today, and all her friends gathered around the grave. |
thunder clapped over like a pair of sturdy handy, and they all looked to the clouds.
there is no message in this madness. all of our heroes will one day die. there is no comfort in this, save t...
Posted by Sherlock Thinks He Knows Everything on Mon, 01 Jan 1900 12:00:00 PST |
your lovers angel told the captains man, it never ends the way we had it planned. |
kissed her palm and placed it on your dreaming head....
so how does one distinguish between being despondant and productive. how does one decifer depression from creativity. or better yet, happin...
Posted by Sherlock Thinks He Knows Everything on Mon, 01 Jan 1900 12:00:00 PST |
so the wind wont blow it all away. |
my birthday is coming soon. i want a present from everyone who has some portance in my life. i want it packaged nicely, and wrapped in bright blue cellaphane, with a pretty bow on the top and ribbon...
Posted by Sherlock Thinks He Knows Everything on Mon, 01 Jan 1900 12:00:00 PST |
the lonely mans lore is what he will make of it...... |
how strange and how easily,
that with only conversation
both trivial and heartbreaking,
a sad guitar, a chance for changing,
and a gentle smile
i now feel clean.
still with my fingers stained...
Posted by Sherlock Thinks He Knows Everything on Mon, 01 Jan 1900 12:00:00 PST |
i cant go with my heart when i cant feel whats in it, i thought youd come over, but for some reason you didnt....glass on the pavement under my shoe. without you is all my life amounts to. |
i remember so much. so many moments in my life that pass fleeting. ive been mourning my innocence for so long now. bright idyllic days that seemed to stretch on forever. remember when we were k...
Posted by Sherlock Thinks He Knows Everything on Mon, 01 Jan 1900 12:00:00 PST |
you come flying, alone, in your solitude, alone with the dead, alone in eternity, shadowless, nameless, you come flying without sweets, or a mouth, or a thicket of roses, you come flying. |
its the last stanza from a poem by pablo neruda called 'alberto rojas jimenez comes flying'. jimenez was a friend of nerudas from school. he met his death by drowning, and the poem always reminded m...
Posted by Sherlock Thinks He Knows Everything on Mon, 01 Jan 1900 12:00:00 PST |
just to love and to be loved, and hope that its enough. |
there is an idea in my head that is steadily growing. that these moments that i have held so dearly, kept so safe for so long do not really have meaning. they will perish, they will fade. as we gro...
Posted by Sherlock Thinks He Knows Everything on Mon, 01 Jan 1900 12:00:00 PST |
Cause if it isn't making dollars then it isnt making sense, if you arent moving units then your not worth the expense. if you really want to make it you had best remember this, if it isnt penetration then it isnt worth a kiss...... |
these are just photographs, just images and words floating aimless through the fog. the way we all are. i do sympathize. i understand. its easier to create this picturesque hero out there somewher...
Posted by Sherlock Thinks He Knows Everything on Mon, 01 Jan 1900 12:00:00 PST |
