

wandering hopesnow and then all of my thoughts are quiet whispers wandering hopes to your heart.wandering hopes


lamentationlamentation, properly expressed, is not so much a feeling as a state of being; a year or two in stillness in solitude spent waiting for things to belamentation
better again, knowing that time will cause change that eventually you'll sleep peacefully again, and yet you will never have that chance, the nervewracking the joyous the possibility
the possibility.


there we hold hands stillisn't it a pity to think we'll never know what other worlds contain? the outcomes of decisions reversely made.there we hold hands still
i keep my secrets floating in the air no one ever thinks to look for something hidden there. go find yourself.
you and i are there, in my secrets, in other places where i didn't underestimate. you and i are there. there we hold hands still.


The RoomJust down the hallway Take your first left Youll find the room That takes all your breathThe Room
The room's full of people That just fantasise That everythings ok In their own eyes
We sit in the corner Not sure what to do The doctors wont tell us What they know is true
I never though I would Come see the day That time would just stop And the fun goes away
Cause I never could laugh And I never could cry I never could hold my head too high Unless its when Im looking at the stars in
Newborn
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you cannot sedate all the things you hate.
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Big V
i honestly hated that piece until you said something about it. until you understood what i was trying to say.
anyways, i was kind of de-rusting myself as far as writing goes. i just posted two more.
and i'll be going through the few pieces i didn't read of yours soon, i promise. =]
expect more comments.
--
christ himself would cringe at the sight of your scars.
sydney, i love you.
(is comment happy.)
and i will do my best to return the favour.
thanks, my dear. =]
it really was my pleasure. as lame as that sounds.
and you'll have plenty of time to do that;
my writing's going at a much slower pace than yours, it seems.
--
christ himself would cringe at the sight of your scars.
i tend to write in on again/off again stages, and on occasion it takes me a while to decide i like something, so things get thrown up in bunches.
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