telepathboy

this predetermination
this hollow form
without love of self
this waste bleeds
it cries of phantoms and illusions
those hollow forms
swirling around
an acrid and arid face
without features
this waste bleeds
it cries of angels and madmen
asking for definition
for determination
of these hollow forms
without substance
it cries for feelings and thoughts
and other intangibles
to occupy and to vanish
where...
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our porcelain valkyrie
became transparent to hide
but glass houses are targets
when no stones are inside
how horrible intent
how terrible the sound
when our shallow protection
comes sparkling down
and broken like promises
kept dead at my feet
this motion is frozen
this cycle complete
only echoes will linger
as the energy spends
that which has a beginning
so hath an end

I'm not dead... not quite.

Actually, I've had a really nice day. It would be perfect if my car was working, but it's not. Heh. So I skipped work today... I head back in tomorrow... and will hopefully have to explain the bite marks on my neck to as few people as possible.

Anyway, later...

-D

silhouette
my savior
my undying care
i've fallen
to pieces
i'm in disrepair

i need you
to hear me
i need you to see
but I won't ask
for healing
or ask to be free

this function
i'm failing
this loving i've lost
i've counted
the pieces
and understand the cost

for every
small miracle
there's a lifetime of sin
the death of
an angel...
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my angel
i've kept every feather that's fallen
taken to jars
and hidden away for only my eyes
dear angel
i've kept every promise you've broken
taken to heart
and hidden away for all of my cries

take this silhouette of you
and paint it through my skin
for destruction is a virtue
but my compassion is a sin
i've started to build a wall
that will one day stop a wave
from eroding this landfill
that i am soon to call my grave
this fairy-tale prediction
is just a syndrome that i show
but if it's the cure or the disease...
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darling, this is our fear
where our dreams are inscribed
marking stains on the wall
that leave us the last ones alive
but our breath is still a gift
though it's for just a little time
it makes each moment sweeter
these last few, where you're mine

(Is this a real entry? Dear God, it must be a holiday!)


I had a bit of a chat with Roxy today... and were going to Rocky next month. Heh, now that it's only once a month, you kind of have to plan it in advance, expecially with me having church on sundays. But anyway...

A little chat, about how I only wanted to go...
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Every heavy metal band should be required to have an accordian. Swedes rock.

If you can, find some Finntroll.

-D

(yeah, i know i havent been here much, but my life is pretty boring)

Dylan's tongue; now available in normal, pierced, and vibrating!

her offering of passion
begat pheromone rage
so this poor little soldier
built his own little cage
he laughed at the daylight
behind bars covered in rust
he laughed through the years
until his voice turned to dust
she came back to his cage
to find nothing within
and built a small castle
from his ash and his skin
this delicate tribute
she carried in...
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