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[14 Jun 2035|02:39am] |
closed for the time being! moved to ![[info]](http://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) allah!
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| "phony avenues." may 30, 2011 ; public. |
[30 May 2011|09:48pm] |
So I couldn't be what you wanted. All you needed, just wasn't me. So I had to set you free but now I'm haunted. I feel defeated. And on my knees. Do you miss me? I pray you do. Like your baby? That's up to you. But it's only lonely phony avenues that I'm leading, without you. But I hope you're doing well. May your heart sing like the angel that you are. Promise to show and tell when you spread your star wings across this new world that once was our. Do I miss you? Of course I do. Does it matter? That's up to you. But it's only the lonely phony avenues that I'm leading without you. Without you. Cause this is where we stand, this is how we fall. This is what we give, this is what we take. This may be the way we lose it all. Cause we chose to run before we learned to crawl. And I miss you. Do you miss me too? Cause I miss you, after all. download track. quality a little shitty. white lighters/adam guzman. song recorded may 30th, 2011. ten o'clock. if you don't like it, don't hurt my feelings.
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[25 Mar 2011|07:26am] |
"Perhaps it is the odd mixture of continents and blood, of here and there, of belonging and not, that makes me restless and easily bored. Or perhaps it was being brought up in the suburbs that did it. Anyway, why search the inner room when it's enough to say that I was looking for trouble, any kind of movement, action and sexual interest I could find, because things were so gloomy, so slow and heavy, in our family, I don't know why. Quite frankly, it was getting me down and I was ready for anything." ( public entry. ) |
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[28 Jul 2009|03:33am] |
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music |
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brb, proofreads. |
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 • You've been living awhile in the front of my skull, making orders. You've been writing me rules, shrinking maps, and redrawing borders. I've been repeating your speeches, but the audience just doesn't follow. Because I'm leaving out words, punctuations, and it sounds pretty hollow. I've been living in bed because now you tell me to sleep. I've been hiding my voice and my face and you decide when I eat. In your dreams I'm a criminal, horrible, sleeping around. While you're awake I'm impossible, constanly letting you down. Little porcelain figurines, glass bullets you shoot at the wall. Threats of castration for crimes you imagine when I miss your call. With the bite of the teeth of that ring on my finger, I'm bound to your bedside, your eulogy singer. I'd happily take all those bullets inside you and put them inside of myself. "Someone, oh anyone. Tell me how to stop this." She's screaming, expiring, and I'm her only witness. I'm freezing, infected, and rigid in that room inside her. No one's gonna come as long as I lay still in bed beside her. •( an entry about israel, portugal, spain, france, colors, hauntings, syke engagements, making music, beaches. ) |
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| spain 2009. |
[21 Jul 2009|07:59pm] |
“ And when today he lights up his cigarette, he uses a flinstone and a fuse, like everyone else. "In a boat," he says, "that is the best way." The wind blows the matches out, but the harder the wind blows, the more fuse glows.” Walter Benjamin -- Spain, 1932.
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[19 May 2009|03:35am] |
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mood |
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tonight was pretty shitty |
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Do not expect Allah to help you with problems that are not Islamic. When two men lay down as one in a bed beneath a tension colored mulch, thick with noxious fumes of emotional levity - do not expect Allah to help you. When you look at your body and do not know if what you’re seeing is real and okay and not heavy, mismatched awkward or contorted - do not expect Allah to help you. These things are not things of Islam, these trivial sins do not compel or inspire mercy from Allah, these things are not of his concern. The suffering you feel is sealed only by the truth that your Savior does not acknowledge your suffering in these matters because they are not of his diction. Merely, misappropriated and misprounced. The intensity of the pain in these matters should be illuminated by the overwheliming truth that Allah does not concern Himself with problems that come from sins he believes a Muslim should not engage in. Only a husband and wife can lie down in one bed; may the sheets be rosy and the air as thin as silk - save Allah. May your body be but a sacred vessel only He may judge and adhere standards to - save Allah. There is no god but He, praise Allah( . ) |
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[02 May 2009|03:39pm] |
Message Board Question: Why do I seem to relapse just when things seem to get better? I have been working hard in therapy, and seem to be making some progress. But it seems that often just when I feel that there is a flicker of light at the end of the tunnel, I relapse. Everything goes back to the beginning. Why do I slip up, will I ever be non-borderline? Answer ( : )
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| addi, what are you doing for spring break? |
[26 Mar 2009|09:44pm] |
the best ever death metal band out of denton never settled on a name. But the top three contenders, after weeks of debate, were satan's fingers, and the killers, and the hospital bombers. Jeff and cyrus believed in their hearts they were headed for stage lights and leer jets, and fortune and fame. So in script that made prominent use of a pentagram, they stenciled their drumheads and guitars with their names. This was how cyrus got sent to the school where they told him he'd never be famous. And this was why jeff, in the letters he'd write to his friend, helped develop a plan to get even. When you punish a person for dreaming his dream, don't expect him to thank or forgive you. ( a entry about old warehouses, street performing, throwing up, following people while singing at them, hyphens, tattoo addictions, and death in dreams. )
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[23 Mar 2009|05:20am] |
"Listen my new friend, please and have a sympathetic tender ear. I was born in this junkyard and it was the prettiest little thing to me. VANITY! DEFACE ME! Here's the part in the song where you think of me all wrong and here's the part where I choose that I got nothing left to lose 'cause any pain that you can bring to me is nothing comparatively. And I've been so lost and found - I can't smile, I can't frown. Happy song, nothing’s wrong. It's all fun, I'm all numb. How much can one man stand before he kisses a cold dead street? This cross bares a billion lost souls, three times do I fall to my bloody bare feet? Think again my lovely friend, don't ask for more you dirty whore. Here's the part in the song where you tell me you don't care. I made you in my head and you don't even care. It's all fun but I'm all numb. ( an entry about prozac, anti-convulsants, podiatrists. )
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[16 Mar 2009|04:44am] |
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mood |
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a desperate strength |
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“You may be sitting on the sofa, three beers deep and two white russians. Staring at the televison, thinking to yourself – this can’t last forever. Hoping, praying, that it will – or won’t last for the rest of your life because whatever comes next – IT COULD BE WORSE! You have evidence in your past that it would in fact be worse. But at the same time, you know it won’t be that previous worse, it’ll be some new thing. We live in an age that preaches the value of new things, but I’m here to tell you there are some new things that are not so good. Some new things suck gigantic asses. All day long."
They say friends dont destry one another? What do they know about friends?( an entry about key west, the oversea high way, recording an ep in your bathroom with a mac, LSD, the mountain goats, personality disorders & tegesta high. )
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| edits like five times. |
[03 Mar 2009|02:26am] |
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music |
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recovering from the itis |
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( كن قوياَ )
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