| Short version: I like words and Buddhism and metal and video games. |


Farewell for SofiaDo you judge her unafraid? That woman fair with curly hair, Pressing forward, you could swear She was a grizzled vet'ran paid To do this every thirty days.Farewell for Sofia
Watch her as she leaves the gate, That woman fair with curly hair. She flinches not, no fear laid bare. No hasty prayers will she orate, No time left to brood and wait.
Look, now, as she takes her seat, That girl untanned with loving hands. She leaves us now for distant lands. The captain's warnings on repeat, She settles down for travel's sleep.
Give her this message, if you plea


The Failures of RestorationIt seems to me I'm always holding doors.The Failures of Restoration
From the scattered rubble left By two organs' violent collapse, I scavenged healthy wood And fasteners of rusting iron. I didn't have a hammer. I used my skull instead.
I wove a tapestry From hairs lost in vehemence. I draped it o'er a clumsy frame And dared to hope It could be paradise.
There's a hearth inside the bedroom. Flames flicker when you walk, Cough, and die when you fly, Sputtering smoke up the chimney To spread filth into August winds. September brings no fire. &n


Widower: Part One--- Id known Geoff for fifteen years. We met by chance on the highway; at the time I was barely seventeen. I was working for a wealthy trader and was on the road with a shipment of goods. The mule had been spooked by something and bolted away from the driver. I was left to put all the goods back in the wagon while that lazy scoundrel looked for the beast, which really meant sitting behind a tree somewhere where I couldnt see and smoking a pipe, probably falling asleep afterwards. It was only a few minutes before I found out what had spooked the mule. I didnt even have time to react to theWidower: Part One


Widower: Part Two--- He had no idea where we were headed. We werent lost; both of us had done a bit of travel in the area surrounding our homes. What I mean was that our destination remained a mystery. Geoff seemed guided by something, though. He left town without looking back and set out along the west road. It was a poor excuse for a road, mottled cobblestones sticking out unevenly from the earth, the grasping shoots of plants peeking out wherever they could find the room. We meandered along the contours of those so-familiar hills, taking in the scenery of a beautiful, cool day, reflecting on ourselves and occasionally making small conversWidower: Part Two


Widower: Part ThreeWe traveled along that road for a week or so, stopping in little villages occasionally to resupply on food and human contact. Gradually the terrain changed and more and more vegetation appeared along the roads. We were nearing the valley of the great river Songbrook, which I had only ever seen on maps. There were settlements in the forests there, but no great cities. As the trees became more dense the nearer we came to the river, we took rest in a small cluster of houses called Market. Why it was called that I cannot say; the only merchant in town was the innkeeper, and Id hardly call his little shop a marketplace. Anyway, tWidower: Part Three


Widower: Part FourThe next morning came without regard to my grief or to his. The sun, filtering through cloudy skies and the windblown branches of the trees outside the inn, roused us both unapologetically. Geoff went straight to his books, and I to my breakfast. There was no sign of the traveling couple; they must have been spooked into moving on early. I wasnt exactly settled into this place either. Geoff was planning something, and I knew I wouldnt like it. He wasnt telling me what his intentions were. It was unlike him, and it made me uneasy. He came down just as I was finishing my meal and sat across from me. Sorry,Widower: Part Four


Slower. Slow: her.my chest crushes in on itself. something in there knocks randomly, it hurts, and I forget that I forgot (on purpose) those stupid pills. another reason to go back, maybe. no.no.no.no.no. they wont find any(no)thing wrong. yes, I can read the words on the screen, yes, I can hear the voice on the other end of the [life]line, yes, yes, yes. but none of it adds up, not even close, to the way two souls speak or sing or smother each other. maybe my soul, maybe my breath, my blood my bones/fingers/eyelashes/scent/thirst maybe one of those holds the strange language that can explain this. explain any-all-things.Slower. Slow: her.
//noise bores


IndigoShe stepped into the bath, feeling the water part, skimming up her leg as she sank back, watching the steam rise from the surface, tiny droplets swirling in the air, iridescent. She pressed the cold glass to her head, so cold against the hot water covering her, lapping over her shoulders covered by her dark hair. She tossed the cold vodka down her throat, listening to the ice chinking against the glass as the drink burned its way through her. The rhythmic dripping from the leaky tap, which usually irritated her, was surprisingly soothing so she concentrated on it watching the drips falling over her dark violet painted toes.Indigo
Sett


I Cannot DieI cannot die. I will live forever and ever within this purlieu of apocryphal buoyancy, amongst this doltishness known as the human race, the very essence I rely on for my survival. It is that same foolish optimism that they, themselves, rely on for their own continuity. As well as the same idiocy that seems to sustain an assurance between two kinds, an agreement that only I seem to recognize.I Cannot Die
Sonorously, I am the one who crossed the line which dichotomizes the co-dependents. I am the one who entered the side of immortality. Regardless of how or why my transformation occurred,


Deny EverythingI step onto your porch To be faced with My own unsettled eyes Through the smashed window Of your busted home They stare right back at me As if they couldn't confront The one's there before YOURS Yours were there Screaming, "I need your help!" As they looked intoDeny Everything
The face of the cataloged
Now I AM here, But with implausible feat. How far would they go? The people who hold the power Who film the future They possess only one policy: DENY EVERYTHING
That isn't the car that holds These stubs that lay in its t
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"My soul melteth for heaviness: strengthen thou me according unto thy word."-Psalm 119:28
and yeah i just re read it and i didn't realize it was that angry lol... heh
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I'm a statue, baby; knock me out.
---x---
Thanks for the compliments (and the watch), I know exactly what you mean
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Embrace this moment. Remember: we are eternal. All this pain is an illusion.
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Join. Play. Love.
if you have time i'd love to hear what you think about some of my other stuff.
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I'm a statue, baby; knock me out.
---x---
I didn't even think about it. I'll get right on it!
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Embrace this moment. Remember: we are eternal. All this pain is an illusion.
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Join. Play. Love.
Please take the time to
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