Hey.I'll be home for the holidays, and out of this god-forsaken treatment center for good in mid-january.
^.^
x3
The ManThere was always a dark fire. There was always an ill wind. There was always a brooding silence. And there was always a man; watching, waiting. The trees could not be trusted; they whispered and plotted. The fire shed no life, no warmth. Only shadows. The man had always been, as had the fire; the wind; the silence. They had always been, and always would be. Long ago, the temple had fallen to ruins. All that remained were trees, A dark fire, An ill wind, A brooding silence, And a man. Watching; waiting. And then… Darkness.The Man
HangmanBound to the earth upon which I tread, with each footstep I claim the earth for my own. I do not rush towards my fate; nor do I hesitate. I walk with confidence, head held high. Even in this dark hour, I will not sacrifice my pride. The day is cool, dry. I breathe deeply. All of my senses are painfully sharp, as if my body knew what was to come. The walk could have been a matter of seconds, or days. Time seems to lose its meaning. And now I see it: the dark, looming gallows, with a fresh noose swaying in the breeze. I approach the stairs. I climb; thud, thud, thud. My steps make a dull rhythm. I stand below the noose; it is fitted around my nHangman
Sono MorteFrom the moment it starts thumping, most human hearts have about two billion, one hundred sixty-three million, forty-five thousand, nine hundred twenty-two beats. Once those beats are up, you die. Some people, however, don't have quite so many beats. The mortals call them "accidents" and "diseases"; I call it the work of another day. I am DEATH.Sono Morte
I have always been, since the beginning. I always will be, until the end. And I am now, watching you as you go about your life, oblivious to the ticking of the clock that will toll your demise. As you read this, a man walks from a store in Mexico, carrying a bag of groceries. He doesn't k
NighthawksNighthawksNighthawks
This city is my addiction. She has always been my home; my mother; my lover. The drainpipes and chain-link fences were my playground as a child; the alleyways and dark nooks, my bedroom. I was never limited, never boxed in. I am truly a free spirit; I have an entire city all of my own. The night was dark; the sounds of a sleeping city echoed about me. My incestuous limerance led me through Lady Chicago’s dark streets; winding through her pathways, between her buildings, and across her rooftops. I came to perch on an abandoned apartment complex on the seedier side of town. I paused for a moment, mesmeri
| My name's Patrick. I'm seventeen years old, and I live in Arlington Heights, IL. Or, I will soon. I've been in a psychological treatment center since 3.26.08. I live in a group home in Billings Montana now; hopefully I'll be coming home in September. Music is my passion; I play keyboard, rhythm guitar, bass, and I sing. I'm a recovering drug addict. I have a very complicated and confusing relationship with a girl right now. I'm just trying to figure out life and get through it happily. That's about all. |
--
Butterflies join me to flee the night...
--
"That which cannot be accomplished with flair, sleight-of-hand, and sheer balls, is not worth accomplishing."-Me
yeah, I'm greatful for second chances, third chances, fourth chances... they make change possible.
--
"That which cannot be accomplished with flair, sleight-of-hand, and sheer balls, is not worth accomplishing."-Me
--
"That which cannot be accomplished with flair, sleight-of-hand, and sheer balls, is not worth accomplishing."-Me
--
"That which cannot be accomplished with flair, sleight-of-hand, and sheer balls, is not worth accomplishing."-Me
Previous Page12345...Next Page