The screw up is deadThey lead her to a dark cove, blind folded, standing above the murky water. All they did was sit there and let her taste the salty air, savoring the last muggy moments. Dressed in black, she was her own funeral. With her hands bound behind her back with rope and her mouth sewn shut, she didn't move or say a word, just stared at the void she could see, waiting, waiting.The screw up is dead
A click.
The girls hair was curly, wavy, wonderfully silhouetting her face. It was long and danced in the minimal wind. It was alive, and seemed to be the only part of her that was left.
Cold metal on her temple.
"The fuck up
Iyhwbybd 15+ _Becauseofyou_Dear Kid in which I happen to have the absolute luck of you being a good friend of mine yet the dismay-- which you will learn in this letter that I love you and the feelings not Mutual.Iyhwbybd 15+ _Becauseofyou_
Don't you hate it when emotions and thoughts blind and confuse you? Like in other words, how people influence you really strongly. It's like suddenly, the simple things that you always admired in a person are turned into things you adore. Then as soon as they turn into things you adore, they become things you dream of adoring with the person you used to admire—but now adore. And sometimes, this happens so fast, that thoughts and
Iyhwbybd 1. _Summer Nights_The number one thing I like to do on summer nights is to lay out on the cool kitchen floor. I love to just sit there as I sweat my non existing balls off letting the cool fake plastic drops my body temperature several, cool degrees. That is, before my body heat warms it up again. Nothing can replace these long nights, not even weed. There is not amount of pot I can be blazed with that can replace my nights with my Ipod plugged into my ears, listening to the gentle tunes of The Hush Sound, Paramore, My Chemical Romance, Skillet and other awesome bands playing. Reminding me how all I am is a teenager and that I should cherish that. Other than tIyhwbybd 1. _Summer Nights_
This weekend
Yearning
--
There was once a young curate whose brain
Was deranged from the use of cocaine
He lured a small child
To a copse black and wild
Where he beat it to death with his cane.
xx
--
face all over your face!
--
I'm not afraid of dying,
pieces of me die all the time.
--
ЙƠ ЪDήƠ β’Dф ЗЪƠ µƠЯЗ;
--
"Aika on liian hidas odottaville
liian joutuisa pelkääville
liian pitkä murheellisille
liian lyhyt riemuitseville
mutta rakastaville
rakastaville aika on ikuisuutta."
--
I'm not afraid of dying,
pieces of me die all the time.
JUUUSTT Lettting you know.
--
Set fire to the preacher who is promising us hell.
--
Every artist is a cannibal, every poet is a thief. All kill their inspiration and sing about their grief.
[LightsReslove]
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