Metamorphoses: 4I sleep, and dream of my childhood. It is a faded memory, like light seen through deep water or the mark on paper of erased pencil lines. Upon waking, I cannot remember whom I was with in my dream, or where we were, or what we were doing. Only a residual emotion remains, and even that slips through my mind like sand held in cupped hands before I can put a name to it. Even unsure what it was, though, I weep from the potency of it.Metamorphoses: 4
They say that traumatising experiences make us into adults before the proper time, that they force us to mature too quickly. I wonder if that is tru
Metamorphoses: 3I am doomed to survive. I am a runner, too fast for dangers to catch hold of. Through the years, everyone that I love will fall behind me, will drop away and be taken, but I will live on. Days blend into weeks blend into years spent alone. One day, I will die, perhaps. Until then, I must continue to fight to outlive all that I care for; anything to avoid oblivion.Metamorphoses: 3
If I was sentimental, if I believed in some Hallmark fairyland heaven where my parents and my sister and my lover and my friends were waiting for me, maybe I wouldn’t fight to live. Maybe then I woul
Metamorphoses: 2There is no dignity in death, no nobility. To die for another is a useless act; if you die, you will not be able to appreciate their life. You gain nothing. Your death is the same as any other. The only honour that can come in death is being able to die human. Still, better to live human than to be snuffed out of existence for eternity. This life is all that we have. It is all that we ever have.Metamorphoses: 2
Last night I dreamt of fire. An explosion of flames, tongues of orange licking the dark night. I dreamt of running for my life, my feet pou
The Darkness Has Been EmbalmedThe darkness has been embalmed, saved for the dilation of pupils. Water drops echo the void of ill illumination, the mossy slick stone floor is presumably protecting permafrost, and only a single occupied chair prevents this room from becoming a black hole.The Darkness Has Been Embalmed
A whimpering can be heard--like howling creatures of the night--only muffled by stitched lips: the victim of an unperceived reality, a truth only viewed cinematically in all its maniacal possibilities.
The drops serve as the only tangible conception to a propitious reality. Proceeding ea
I didn't quite make it to nationals
Obsessed
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Writing teaches us our mysteries. ~ Marie De L'Incarnation
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I cannot put my finger on it now/The child is gone the dream is gone
-Pink Floyd
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Dr. Venture: Why is it every time I need to get somewhere, we get waylaid by jackassery?
---The Venture Bros.
My NEW Blog! Come on by! [link]
--
I cannot put my finger on it now/The child is gone the dream is gone
-Pink Floyd
--
Dr. Venture: Why is it every time I need to get somewhere, we get waylaid by jackassery?
---The Venture Bros.
My NEW Blog! Come on by! [link]
CLICK HERE
--
I cannot put my finger on it now/The child is gone the dream is gone
-Pink Floyd
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