i am vengeance, built for war |
my bones still crack when i move, and sometimes i think it's just to remind me that something changes every time we move off balance, something that causes a little damage somewhere, in a place you'll...
Posted by AL on Sat, 18 Aug 2007 06:07:00 PST |
the world |
is too treacherous for anything but truth, and too claustraphobic for anything but love.
Posted by AL on Sat, 11 Aug 2007 07:21:00 PST |
i wont expose you |
but perhaps you should do it yourself. your porcelain veneer is cracking, the bricks are falling around you and soon the roof will collapse in; the people you think are there to pick up the pieces wil...
Posted by AL on Thu, 26 Jul 2007 05:58:00 PST |
oxygen. |
nothing's special, and its not for want of trying. there is never anything to say and inspiration and expression seem to take pleasure in evading me these days. the build up was too much, wasn't it? s...
Posted by AL on Mon, 01 Jan 1900 12:00:00 PST |
portrait of the heart as a gymnast |
contentment being the enemy of creativity; i have but three words on my lips, and nothing else springs from my throat but happy sighs and happier smiles - these times i hold dear, here with you, ...
Posted by AL on Sat, 26 May 2007 09:47:00 PST |
take me away |
what came next made me wish i'd stayed under. i brought you with me and did everything i could to help you because i truly believe in you but now i'm so lost and i wish i knew what to do, i wish i had...
Posted by AL on Wed, 23 May 2007 08:36:00 PST |
six walls of paper and no man parting some sea... |
i want to take you out of a box and put you in another. i want to break the seal and keep you safe, out of sight, out of the filthy hands of everyone, only for me to gaze upon. i want a sunset that no...
Posted by AL on Thu, 17 May 2007 05:51:00 PST |
motivation! |
enraptured by speed; exhaustion and distance. spaces. open spaces. dark streets and the world spinning, something to hold on to, a reason to care. and everything dying like hell while all that matters...
Posted by AL on Wed, 04 Jan 2006 05:21:00 PST |
let's go to bed |
all i can hear is the sea and your fingers in my hair; all i can feel is black on white paper. it's our way home, it's our fucking masterpiece.and i miss you, the way my poppy red blood burns for word...
Posted by AL on Fri, 30 Sep 2005 06:02:00 PST |
