

morphAnd yell yell yell goes the soft voices outside my door, and they both come in at once, blocking both he exits and moving in, impounding me, this day now has meaning, get up. They say it all using not the same words, but others, too many. The day is hard to unravel, and certain words catch, catch under skinmorph
little smiling hooks
And I'm caught and held, in the social kaleidoscope, consisting of only four and lacking colour. More words, will the ever stop coming? Spoken, Yelled, Typed but not written, only ever made in forms hard to track hard to hold on to. Stopping when she leaves and I feel resentment, from he


that kind of moodI'm in a bad bad mood. I'm in a throw myself against the wall andthat kind of mood
rip relationships
and innuendo
into shreds. I'm in a flirt with strangers, play with danger, laugh at innocent things being squashed kind of mood.


smokeBlank faces, colourless facts, with sicknesssmoke
it would seem now at your throat;
the smoke risen burst forth in deadly art, nonexistent repetition winds it's way into oblivion


PitIn The PitPit
Its like Fight Club. That awesome book, that cool movie, thats what its like at the Pit. I suppose our ideals are slightly less noble. In a way though, our beliefs run parallel to Fight Club. We are all a part of the same compost heap" or rather, we are the worms. We are the writhing, slimy worms, we are meaningless and faceless, chewing through crap and leftovers. We are the worms, living unseen and blind underground, flinching from the harsh light. We are the worms that keep the soil fresh and make your flowers grow. But Deities forbid we be seen above ground. The noise that thumps

--
ms : [link]
--
Green is the new black.
Warm hearts, not the earth.
--
Too weird to live, and too rare to die
--
~*Care-Club
--
All God does is watch us and kill us when we get boring. We must never, ever be boring.
--
All God does is watch us and kill us when we get boring. We must never, ever be boring.
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