like a scrapbook of folly,
a reminder of past mistakes.
look o'er your failures
and your faults.
i'm well beyond these hang-ups,
these pathetic, childish games.
i'm done with all this nonsense.

regret.

living without regret is a pipe dream -
designed for romantics and messiahs
and just like the passion and faith they both cause
just as unobtainable.

luv powm.

now sweetheart, he's the sweet part.
i dream every night that my blood flows like sugar
and you're by my side, eating out my wrists,
staring through my eyes, like stain-glass windows
and connecting the patterns to form the faces of deities.
wishing for their blessings to be carried upon us,
as i wish for
and by the time the silhouette of the horizon breaks,
our necks are have been sucked dry
by our nocturnal passions.
vampires fuelled by lust and love
and every emotion that lies between
but i could live lifeless,
if it means the nights are ours.

rush.

it's like feeding a fucking addiction now.
your heart beats faster and faster
and everything disappears into bleak oblivion.
the thrill leads to new abodes, new faces.
to thrill leads to troubles
on the inside and out.
it bubbles up inside
and you struggle to find peace
yet it persists
and it'll never stop.
because there isn't a cure,
it is a fucking addiction
because balance is unobtainable
but that wont stop us from trying,
wont stop anyone crying.
it's a disability at best
and ignition at worst.
it's a rush that only lasts a while.

ramble #1

i'm not quite sure as to how i should notate this but assuming i have absolute control over who sees what entries i post in this blog, i shall post any of my emo shit / bullshit ramblings here.

when we learn basic words that describe emotions such as 'happy' and 'sad' from these who base emotions, we learn synonyms to describe the severity of the emotion. 'joyful' 'chipper' 'thrilled' etc.
usually, the synonym used describes the severity of the emotion, so what happens when you reach a point where there isn't a word left it describe it? sounds cliche, i know. but why can i not put a word to how bleak and mundane i feel right now. they don't come anywhere near. everythings pointless to me, i have human drive and human instincts and all that jazz but i just don't see a point in it, in the grand scheme anyway. i'll be born, my life will pass and i will die and i doubt i will leave a lasting impact on anything in a wider span than a few generations, so why bother?
/emo.

MMXI

new beginnings down paths that lead to more dead ends.
clean slates that will only become as stained as the last.
a new number-name put to the same damned thing.
if you entered this time in negative mind,
or in tears,
or in spite,
i am in no way capable of possessing any sympathy for your idiocy.

so here's to another year of broken hearts, broken bones and broken ties
because i know near each and every one of you
preaching for 'change' -
cannot back up their words with actions
and neither can i at the moment
and that isn't a statement lined in hypocrisy -
i will eventually burn each and every bridge to you and your friends.

untitled #999999

we've long since repressed our holy existence
and now we live amongst the damned.
near every face has formed a likeness to lucifer,
now divinity and destruction, go hand-in-hand.
i can smell absence and decay on the breath
of each and every fallen jerusalem whore.
where will we ever find sanctity,
when the skies above us freeze over
and angels fall to the earth like the leaves
of early autumn trees.
line the street with your mistresses,
and your concubines too
for their lives of promiscuity and smut
will eventually fall back on you.