phoenix-raven

The Antithesis of a broken heart, Is that which flows freely into one man's soul to the wield of another person's belief Characterizing all to be said by polar opposites, secret wishes and whispers, in the dark to which one must reply, we have always known and the cry for help comes swiftly in a letter's cry Filled with cliches, you must obey the subtle release of emotion they bring And in turn feel unbound by paradox that in turn lets you loose on an unsuspecting world One not equipped for a writer of a caliber unseen.

I am a disaster extracted from embers, deep in the trenches of your soul. I couldn't bring myself to understand the way in which the curvatures of these also reflected the caverns of hate in your heart. Twisting a thread tight around your finger, like a noose prepared for your neck. I see the sadism disguised as desperation waiting to bring another one down into the darkness. Never free, hardly breathing- Fire burning on dwindling firewood, And I wonder why we can't escape.

The blood stains the flower and the knive's cutlet, dripping down to the wood floor. Screaming fire in an equivalent dust, wishing we all turn to rust. Offering wrists for sacrifice, nothing done to ever suffice. Feel the gold melt away, no one ever allowed to stay. Education higher treated thus, go be dead for money none. I state to wonder why- In life, in pain; We're left to cry. I just want freedom and security, In a world with no purity. But alas, never pleasing Gods' cruelty.

An indent down through the water from the hand of a great old one forming motion in our universe down to our earthly sphere, breaking the stillness with an imprint upon me. It contains the loneliness, of our speck-like irrelevance. In a world of chaos. Realizing ultimately we are completely alone, the meaningless nature. A nihilism granted by existence. All before an untimely demise. But in the end I got to say hello to the void. And my name was signed. It's your turn now.

Satan, My God To whom the misty garden grows, entangled and shrouded by the bones We step over, the rusty mountain spikes of deceit to find- through shattered dreams and bloody notes the spire to the truth. The beauty to which we lose ourselves in our quest of self-actualization, of transcendence to the hell right here within and forget what may have bound us by hate and poison in the little map of coves. You questioned me, on the way to the circle of thirteen. I couldn't see where I was going and I must have been lost again. Yet you shone your light to help me find the way. The ravens cast down their caw for echolocative sound and I fin

Kurt, bebo. Revenu al ni mi petas. Vi mankas al ni. Mi povas sole imagi la doloro ili iris per. Imagu, Dave kaj Krist, kiamaniere ĝi devas havi sentis pro ilin. Havi perdis Kurt kiel tio. MalafablaMalfacila gluti DoloraMalgajaFaktaj realecojVero Kiel faris Frances sentas?Ĉu vi kredi je ŝiaj larmoj? La 'larmoj' de Courtney.

Tiam mi sonĝis ke mi mortis. Mi nur volas tranĉi refoje. Kial ne? Ĝi estas en mia sonĝoj. Tio sonĝoj - Mi ŝatas ĝin. Ĉu vi volas min laŭ la steloj? Stela polvo... Tio estas  ĉio Mi estas.

Kurt loved Courtney... but can Courtney love?

How is it in heaven today? When you and Cobain blaze the skies. I can just glance that way and know it's a door for happier times. He never meant you any hurt when he blamed you for things when you were both younger. The question is: Who is the more mischievous? Who felt the need to rebel the most? Did you ever come back from your trip? I'm sure you did, he wouldn't just let you go like that.    You always meant so much more to him than she did. The only one who mattered more is Frances Bean- but we all know that. Not that you're worthless or bad, but he prioritized Bean slightly above you I imagine. I don't know. I can't ask him. Though we