September 2011
Word vomit. Laying next to red haired horned goddess, nose leaking blood I used to wash the chalk board with tomorrows memories. Jumping out the nearest window, leap of faith into a fiery inferno. Surrounded by darkness I’m the lightest mother fucker you can see. I am not a reflection of society. I am entirely made up of me.
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“Instead of bemoaning the fact that protesters haven’t arrived in matching...”
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“For want of a precise definition, we might consider that crazy wisdom is a...”
– Tom Robbins (via allartiserotic)
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Drama kings
Down, down into the inferno I go. Blame all the falsehoods and my massive ego. I jumped off the edge with a gun in my hands. And all this time I was just trying to remember your plans. Lost, lost in the streets of Prague. Just as the gypsies climbed out from the fog. A simple card trick, and my coins are gone. just one day, two weeks, six years and it’s already dawn. Next, next week...
Nothing harder than wearing matching Iron Maiden tee’s.
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I haven’t made music in a week. NO WONDER I’M SO RESTLESS.
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“As a Muslim, I’m sick of people asking me how I feel about 9/11. What do you...”
– Aman Ali (via blaqmagic)
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