a beautiful cityin other news, high school is over. I actually think I'm moving on quite nicely...
*knocks on wood*
Newest
untitledIf all the days of my life shall be relentless yet unbearably empty and eternal (as they have these past petty years) I shall never wish to relinquish my blissful memories of you.untitled
you as you were. me as I was.
so few (yet many) years ago, as each passing day of carefree and weightless youth leaves me all the more jaded and detached.
I live now removed, hovering, above and around and behind and below and anything but filled and overwhelmed with my emotions.
I sit and remove
myself from myself observe and dissect some specimen
my 15-year-old se
by ~perfectlypunnq
Quietly Sitting AloneQuietly sitting alone, in the back of the class, at your average public high school and perceiving all of the idiots surrounding you, sometimes the phrase comes to mind: what if? What if all of these self-centered people suddenly came to the realization that the world does not revolve around them? What if, what if, what if.what if they could view the world through someone else's eyes, anyone else's eyes, and see their own ridiculous self-absorbsion in full Technicolor vision instead of being wrapped up and contained in their own seventeen-year-old shortsightedness? What if they learned that "charitable giving" doesn't have to be braggedQuietly Sitting Alone
by ~perfectlypunnq
The Long and Lonely RoadTonight I drove for an hour Drove for an hour and a goddamn circle, Ending right where I started Or maybe…maybe it meant something. Maybe I got somewhere As much as it hurts its empowering, Knowing you’re so close But it doesn’t change a thing Telling myself I’m driving my way back home,The Long and Lonely Road
Home to you But all I can hear is the hollow sound of my fingers
Drumming along with some pointless R&B song on the radio Usually I’d sing along, but tonight I don’t even hear it All I can see is the road ahead, all the memories I can finally let in And of course I could’ve
by ~perfectlypunnq
Favourites
Sheer SilenceThe girl gets up each day and creates herself out of cloth and paint. She writes at night about men who looked, and boys who touched, and weight. The writing is never enough. Confession is insufficient. Absolution never comes in the articulation, only in the penance. She thinks of the saints: their bed of nails, their centuries-late apologies for Eve who doomed all women to the pains of the flesh by giving in to the pleasures of the forbidden. They lacerate their own skin for Eve, for the sins of the world which they shoulder as their own. They wear religious paraphenalia, or razors next to their bodies. She reads into the saints.Sheer Silence
by ~timrkey
Let's Be HonestDoes it get you off, this honesty in my voice, this weakness in my taste?Let's Be Honest
Does it turn you on to know that
you are expendable
in every which way but my way?
I think it gets you off to think of a shadowy figure hanging from a ceiling fan
going 'round
and 'round
and, hell, right 'round.
I think it turns you on when helicopters scope out woods with spotlights and megaphones
looking for homicidal citizens.
by ~timrkey
AprilScared that you're going toApril
be last April all over again
I quickly put on my hoodie and grabbed my shoes.
I know that April caught you crying and making use of violence near
your most important of parts.
And I know that April took you seven hundred miles away to write songs and answer questions that generally only intelligent people respond to.
I know that April made you grab my wrist and stop me from destroying the fire tha
by ~timrkey
And I'll Never Be AloneRedAnd I'll Never Be Alone
severed the ties through the chapel in the window on the day with the sun and the heat and the solar eclipse
you bought the special glasses for.
Red
in the tye dye hung on the line outside of
the house in the garden through the flowers growing in mass quantities
just like you hoped they would
When you planted them on the Saturday before the Sunday that brought cynics to their knees before the Pope blessed his death
Bef
by ~timrkey
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Devious Info
- Current Residence: anywhere but here
- Interests: writing (duh), theater, dance, hanging out, bein' gangsta...the list goes on
- Favourite movie: Moulin Rouge, Garden State, The Turning Point
- Favourite band or musician: Dashboard Confessional, Billy Joel, Maroon 5, John Mayer, Gin Blossoms...again, the list goes on
- Favourite genre of music: well we all know I am soooo emo *runs to the oven and sticks her head in*
- Website: http://livejournal.com/users/bohemian_twuth
- Email: Cancan99@msn.com
- AIM: Cancan99
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good times
--
and we carried our cross like a clover; we smoked cigarrettes and we lied, about the things we would feel when we were older. oh, god, what a fine waste of time. I miss you, are you comin' over?
--
Pack a change of clothes--it's time to move on...
--
My darling, when it comes
down to it...
and the flame is seeping out of you
and igniting the tarmac beside your head
or else the floor, or else the pillow,
none of us is;
or else we all are.
-Margaret Atwood
--
Pack a change of clothes--it's time to move on...
--
well I flipped every switch that I could find on my way out
just to upset you more
[just to keep you busy]
just to make you angry
[just because you were right]
--
My darling, when it comes
down to it...
and the flame is seeping out of you
and igniting the tarmac beside your head
or else the floor, or else the pillow,
none of us is;
or else we all are.
-Margaret Atwood
--
Johnny
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