Such Great HeightsAbsurd really Me getting angry T'is the nature of the beast Nature of life A festival of new beginnings Leave that old baggage at the door She's gotta make new exciting baggage Not her fault at allSuch Great Heights
Why should there be fault? A mystery This jealousy, making snakes of seas Is pointless and crude Some dude named Jack or John He can carry on And who is this John or Jack? Again, a mystery
The war'll be over by Christmas With the future built from the rubble She's happy A simple truth And I, like a belltower hunchbac
SeedlingBeneath the grass a bauble lies; Long life without limits within. Fragile firebrand, you hold no sin Nor barricades of azure sky What was once new decays, decending Beside setting sun and spinning spheres. Each turn she reaches further, through all fear No trips or traps stop her ascending. From birth we look upward at the clouds Erupting as oaks, in slow; She stands lone, surrounded by the forest, Eyes fixated, yearning to grow. When the red summer sun burns high Young girl, reflect on what has been. The real end is the beginning. Reach ever further, beSeedling
WordsI really don't feel like writing. I'm a perfectionist. I've deleted and rewritten this one sentence multiple times. Pointless as I'm going for a free flowing thought process type of thing I've never just sat and written without thought, planning or any sort of goal That's a lie, or just an exaggeration, which is a sort of lie. We've all done something similar once or twice, I mean, c'mon. How many times have we sat down, staring into white abyss, pen raised and just scrawled something that sounds good? It snowballs though, doesn't it, rolling on from there.Words
That's inspiration. You can't just summon it. It spread
Cold Bones: A BeginningThe headset crashed forcefully against the floor.Cold Bones: A Beginning
It was the third one this week.
Agent Vice was getting less and less pleased. The sweating man dragged and twisted the tie that choked at his throat, creasing the skin above his nose in frustration. Agent Vice had bolted to his feet mere seconds before he threw down his communications equipment. After his head and the roof of the van traded details, amid swearing, the mustachioed agent resigned himself to stooping. Buzzing and static broke out into muffled speech and he snathed the secondary communications line transmitter up to his red face.
"Are you the
Slow BUT steady...
Content
--
From the creator of
Senor Garcia and All Purpose Neko Boy >>>>[link]
And The Only>>>>[link]
-arakida-ayano-
--
Sentry sappin' mah spy!
--
poets are singers who haven't learnt to sing
musicians who haven't learned to play
they know not what it is we bring
think us priests who haven't learnt to pray.
--Azuire//lastfactor&c.
--
poets are singers who haven't learnt to sing
musicians who haven't learned to play
they know not what it is we bring
think us priests who haven't learnt to pray.
--Azuire//lastfactor&c.
--
poets are singers who haven't learnt to sing
musicians who haven't learned to play
they know not what it is we bring
think us priests who haven't learnt to pray.
--Azuire//lastfactor&c.
--
Anyone got a concrete plan on how to get a body like Brandon Boyd?
((Join my TF2 Clan today! Look me up, I'm |S-K|Bardock))
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