exist
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Grevived through me is all of your loss.
Filling my body with gold is your joy.
Stringed to my soul is your spirit.
You're the locket that savers my love.
The key has never neeeded to exist.
She walks by night
By daylight and Twilight
Step silent across gravel roads cobble streets
The girl in the flannel skirt
She doesn't eat or drink or sleep
She simply breathes
I cant be held
because I am an empty space
and even on the better days
when I become this stack of brittle bones
I wont let you hold me
you know my lungs collapse each morning
I want to create
BE
Become the current
Ethereal reality
No authentic fakery
Forget time spent
Live in dreams
Read in books
So in reach
I want to act
DO
Smoking Cigs while listening to post-punk.
What a way to die.
Sipping poisonous punch, staring at neon stars,
observing couples symblozing the synths
Did I accept or reject the lie
Honeslty I am not sure
Let me hold you.
Let me hold you, expressed the flowing river.
Let me lead you around the twists and bends.
Let me expose you to the eb and flow of my waters path.
I am alive
I am here
I interact with thousands of people
They know I am "here"...
What if I am gone "physically"?
Will people still say I existed?
Will people be able to prove my existance?
I'm living in a world that doesn't exist!
A world that is fragile, a world that's a game;
It can always start over.
No one ever dies to stay dead,
But to be reincarnated a few seconds later.
Old kids as an society will eventually take about 30 prescriptions pills, but as humans we suffer from greed. Our greed complains for more life, but to have had life is enough. Our greed stems from fear, the fear of being casket sharp and gray.
i want to go out with a bang.
when i die, my name will be on the front page paper.
there will be no hospital bed,
no whirring machines or antiseptic smells.
those who say that any life is better than no life
The wistful wind blows
It reminds me of peace
Never ending ongoing tranquility
Things that are hard to achieve
In this society which never sleeps
Under Pressure.
Listen to Bowie:
Fill my ears with the sound of his sweet fears.
Under Pressure.
I used to be so carefree
A beautiful
Sun-child
Of the Earth.
But now I don’t recognize me.
