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001012002020010301100131030200Maybe I'm less Of an angel when I say I am, or Perhaps I enjoy watching myself Being found, while The older I feel, the younger I become, although Without one soft hand or Eye, it seems velvet001012002020010301100131030200
Stiffens in the ear of failure.
by ~SykoBloodCraze
Semester the SecondObscure castes and all that they signify Within the blackboard jungle's careful gates Behind the glares of those more dignified Dramatic destinies mature and waitSemester the Second
Both faculty and pupils evanesced But substituted correspondingly Not limited to those it does detest, Bad fortune fails impartiality
This marathon we're running without breath Denied peace of mind by those hired to teach Conjectures deemed improper after death Tranquility and rest torn from our reach
Some tempted to here linger, to remain But I will never walk these halls again
by ~SykoBloodCraze
The DinerOily, skinny awning, over the Diner under the bridge Paper napkin windy days, food served in trashcan lids Bittersweet with salt and pepper, ordered on bony knees Pride not so easy to swallow, ask for a menu if you please The sidewalk’s café reeks of vinegar, of necessity and greed The owner knows his trade quite well, and turns away no need Sustenance so fine and filling, so priceless and so rare Such splendid victual is suited for a starving millionaire And its visitors are many, though return customers are few So when driving on the overpass, toss a tip far overdue.The Diner
by ~SykoBloodCraze
DedicationsHe wishes for nothing to hold close as his own He writes about stonesDedications
She savors resentment of faraway violence She speaks about silence
He occupies himself with a brooding affection He rants about severed connections
She prides herself on chemistry but despises the science She seethes about compliance
He discusses his options and makes his selection He sulks about rejection
She acts on impulse and reflects on disgrace She forgets about saving face
He needs the pressure of an imaginary rival He learns about survival &n
by ~SykoBloodCraze
Favourites
Garden Of LustWhen I situate my precincts, The flowers aren’t yellow nor the dye of blue. Red is their tint, Passion and labour of love is what they arise for. Work came from the planting of the seeds,Garden Of Lust
And the instance they acquire to cultivate.
For this Garden which I decline on my stern, Is not the obstruction of the heaven which God primed. It’s the abode of where I nurture living, But I am not here unaccompanied; O no I am not. Some one is here watching me and mounting that scarlet tint, She observes with her desire.
Yes she is there in flourishing life, I gue
by ~jackio37
ehdeviantID
Devious Info
- Current Residence: Dallas, land of the mosquitos and fatasses.
- Interests: Writing, Art, Producing art, Bitching, Design, Arguing, and Plotting.
- Favourite movie: Heathers, The Breakfast Club.
- Favourite band or musician: Depeche Mode, A-Ha, Fleetwood Mac, APC, POD, Flock Of Seagulls, The Rasmus, Rammstein
- Favourite genre of music: 80's Progressive & Rock. some trance, especially ambient.
- Favourite artist: hmm, I'm not sure...my taste in art tends to fluctuate according to my moods.
- Favourite poet or writer: See above. However, I deeply admire Poe for his skill in epithet and detail.
- Personal Quote: If everything is under control, you're going too slow.
- Tools of the Trade: Diet Coke and very little sleep
- Website: http://www.xanga.com/vegetarian_spaghetti
- AIM: TheSpazJustSaid
- Yahoo: muddgirl321
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