does confession of your unforgivable sins instill in your heart the reassurance of innocence
extract from the corner of your circular container of emotion the instance when i glued the pieces of my unbroken heart together before it knew the meaning of desecration
pain can only be measured in fractions spoken of in foreign languages.
it never hurts anyone but me.
Emotion is my blood;
More than blood, emotion fuels my life.
It surges through my veins, through my brain.
If i fall, nobody will hear me in a forest of weak and powerful sobs.
Suddenly I am selfless, I would give my life, a savage sense of importance.
Whatever it takes, this is most important.
my personal license to live by schwarzman, literature
Literature
my personal license to live
The brilliantly Technicolor game of leapfrog competitively continues; I watch through black and white glasses. In the air rings a sweet laughter, and, to me, like a pungent odor. My eyes well up with a clear, soothing liquid. My throat is a reserve of burning, stinging sensations unfamiliar to me. I am among denizens of an educational system, I linger to learn facts of unknown origins which cannot be taught.
Help.
Figures around me spin into a swirling maze of black as if merging into a giant entity consuming my being. The ground is a scarce commodity; why has it left? My convictions, my precious reality-everything I know to be true a
dying on the inside
dying on the outside
which part is dying more?
lie so many lies
live so many lives
here on earth for what?
the past green
the future black
see nothing
a depressed medium
a confused soul
me, i am nothing special
It was an overcast afternoon, on a dismal day. Nothing was going on anywhere, not even in the old Phantom Isle Inn. There was a lone man sitting at the bar, drying a chipped, well-used beer mug. The man was seemed to be in his late sixties, with graying hair and a messy beard. He almost gave off the appearance of a pirate.
All of a sudden, a crashing noise and a white hand with no flesh on it appeared in the doorway, an arm, and finally a body.
"Aren't you going to come in?" said the old man without looking up. He was still drying the mug.
"How are ya, Solutare?" Inquired the skeleton.
"I'm fine just drinkin' some whiskey,"
"Why
It was an overcast afternoon, on a dismal day. Nothing was going on anywhere, not even in the old Phantom Isle Inn. There was a lone man sitting at the bar, drying a chipped, well-used beer mug. The man was seemed to be in his late sixties, with graying hair and a messy beard. He almost gave off the appearance of a pirate.
All of a sudden, a crashing noise and a white hand with no flesh on it appeared in the doorway, an arm, and finally a body.
"Aren't you going to come in?" said the old man without looking up. He was still drying the mug.
"How are ya, Solutare?" Inquired the skeleton.
"I'm fine just drinkin' some whiskey,"
"Why
He walked down the torn up street.
The swirling black entity painted a mural across the grey evening sky.
His surroundings simplified to complexity.
His eyes fixated upon the captivating whiteness of the two orbs ahead him.
He wanted a reason to stop.
He needed a reason to stop.
There was an explosion of light and sound as one.
His shadow floated and danced across the trodden path.
He shouldn't wake up.
He couldn't wake up.
The world around him violently shattered.
Every shard of earth was more perfect alone.
It wasn't a dream.
It wasn't even a nightmare.
I was looking at someone's coments as I usually do and I just decided to click on every person who commented and check out their pages. I find very interesting art that way.
that's cool, i don't get a chance to hang out at DA often anymore. i actually came back right when this crazy stuff about jark started happening... i'm very confused right now about it. oh well... do you remember whose comments you were looking at?
that's cool, i don't get a chance to hang out at DA often anymore. i actually came back right when this crazy stuff about jark started happening... i'm very confused right now about it. oh well... do you remember whose comments you were looking at?