drink it down |
the time is a dialect.my time is on a lever.call me, reclusive.elusive.i write within the designs of the unique.i know what your thinking.in a past life i might be blinking.thinking.jordan VS. birdyou...
Posted by C. S. on Fri, 07 Sep 2007 04:26:00 PST |
i don't wanna look. |
1. private side of life.
get me my knife and diary.
i don't wanna show you.
2.you're a dreamstealer.
virgin damsel in distress.
&n...
Posted by C. S. on Mon, 11 Jun 2007 01:28:00 PST |
theory of insanity (planned mutha' f-----' pregnancy) |
I will not subscribe to your version of reality.normalty in your norm, on your magazine covers i find a fallacy.actually, your blinded by the shine off the button button ring on a baby doll tee, who's...
Posted by C. S. on Thu, 10 May 2007 12:41:00 PST |
for some qwerty spells spirituality |
mirrors break and dreams shatter.sentiment molded into the thoughts of schizophrenic holders.forgetting the promises.waking-up daily to the remembrance of the afore nights restlessness.might I just gu...
Posted by C. S. on Sun, 15 Apr 2007 08:10:00 PST |
Soundtrack to my life (stolen from andy) |
I got this idea from Andy M. and I believe he got it from someone. so this is a thieves version of a thiefs idea, I lost everyone, I'm sure. Anyways, it should be cool.
____________________...
Posted by C. S. on Thu, 18 Jan 2007 04:01:00 PST |
Is anyone out there? |
it seems as if we live in a world where conversations are scripted.
people spend lifetimes stealing scenes from B movies.
philosophy and religous ideology only exist in order to be re-memorized so dud...
Posted by C. S. on Wed, 13 Dec 2006 10:02:00 PST |
Operation endurance inventory |
i'm sick of beating around the bush that you trim for more seductive false lovers that spents lifetimes sleeping in tanning beds wet with the tattoo'ed grins of misled future ridden, Janet Reno's. Sum...
Posted by C. S. on Sat, 25 Nov 2006 01:35:00 PST |
white lies and tan lines |
i drink the shadows of my past to help the habits of my future, for the time being. in that is me seeing the meaning of a weird word, of absurd, impure directions. just about: rounded a...
Posted by C. S. on Sun, 15 Oct 2006 03:48:00 PST |
pure |
i hear the pain in the cries of my elders. seldom remembered, although never forgotten. these conversations that i seemingly dismiss through my wit are embeded deep in my soul. the executions from far...
Posted by C. S. on Tue, 10 Oct 2006 11:31:00 PST |
I don't know if I can do it |
this is one of my old poems. i think it's dope....
I play hop-scotch with my shadow.
I jump left.
he jumps left.
i jump right.
then i'm left. alone.
my home. is in the form of a house with whit...
Posted by C. S. on Sat, 12 Aug 2006 09:18:00 PST |
