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This Is My True Freedom

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alastar

:: 2005 11 September :: 11.27pm
:: Music: smashing pumpkins - 1979

Bruises and teethmarks; don't wait for a reply

Oh, and I'm still hiding behind blackveils? Caught in the lip by my own metaphors, dragged out of the water with gills burning and fins flapping.

Oh, and I'm still choking on the cloudedvision? Shovels and claws didn't get me deep enough, I gu(digr)ess.

Oh, and I'm still trapped inside the funhousemirrors? Unable to see past my own reflection, but never getting sick of my own face.


Well I've got a story to tell to tell to tell (do tell).

- - -- - - -- -- - - __ -- - -- - -_----- - - - - - -

And I crawled out of the ground where the dirt met the roots at the trunk of the tree. Rebirth. (Some would say the next life.) Peering into the night, I saw one thing: the shadows. Cloakinghidingmasking everything. Softening details that in the daylight would be too harsh to gaze upon. And in this gaze I learned that all I wanted to do was become one of them. So I crawled over the ground, scraping my stomach on the leaves and sticks and dirt, to the darkest of the shadows.

I sunk myself deep inside the darkness and I became the shadow. I melted out of my physical form into the air itself. I became the night. Free to roam to hunt to follow.

I roamed through the trees, sliding from leaf to branch to trunk.

I hunted the birds, flying across the ground. I hunted the beasts, filling their tracks before their feet had left them.

I followed every footstep of every animal, every sway of every branch, sliding over the dirt in every shadow.

1 day[s] remain | the end is here


cowboy67

:: 2005 9 September :: 11.15pm

it's worth a try

the end is here


alastar

:: 2005 8 September :: 9.51pm
:: Music: 30 Seconds to Mars

This is the last time

This year the journal writes itself. I'll sit back and watch as the autonomous fingers move. I'll work around the thoughts that try to work themselves in.

I'll only think of one thing and watch as my fingers weave you into every line, every word, and every letter.


[Suggestion: Go back down the timeline. There are two years in this thing.]

Oh the (c)rhy(i)mes.

1 day[s] remain | the end is here


cowboy67

:: 2005 6 September :: 10.58pm

a better, happier you
Read more..

1 day[s] remain | the end is here


cowboy67

:: 2005 5 September :: 11.35pm

"i think that humanity brings much misery on itself by the false value they put on things."

- benjamin franklin


alastar

:: 2005 2 September :: 12.34am

Demolition

Don't blame it on the blueprints, we both watched it fall. We know the reason why.

Why?

You gave in. You caved in. Implode.

But wait...there's more!!

We missed a few things.
In hindsight, (perfect vision, no obstructions) the pieces fell into a pattern, just how you wanted. And when the glass shattered, the mosaic was complete,

-just wrong. Completely wrong.

Don't blame the blueprint. Correct inches and angles and heights could have never fixed you.

the end is here


alastar

:: 2005 1 September :: 2.41pm
:: Music: Bloc Party

Cut the cord/Snap the line

And she keeps fishing for eyes with her lipstickbait and her shortskirthooks. Curved, sharp, rusted, metal hooks down the throats and in the lips and gums and tongues and cheeks.

She'll reel you up from your watery depths. Ripping skin and tearing flesh-

along
the
w-a-y.


Taste that blood,-
-was the worm worth it? -was it good? -did you like it? -do you want another?

She's made you crave that blood. No use for worms, only hooks. Shiny and metallic, floatingdanglingswinging in the water above your head. Open your mouth, bite down and feel it pierce your palate. Feel the blood flow into your mouth.

That's what you want, isn't it?

She's got hooks buried in your skin, all over your body. (Little marionette.) She's got hooks in your bones, down in your cartilage. (Little puppetboy.) She's got your tendons wrapped up- nerves tied up- veins wound up- around her hooks. (Little doll.)

Pull the strings; dance doll, dance.


Good-
-boy
-bye

Goodboy[e].

6 day[s] remain | the end is here


alastar

:: 2005 30 August :: 10.15pm
:: Music: Billy Talent

Disinter

I used the pick axe (motivation) and shovel (inspiration) that you so graciously handed me, and I started digging. Concreteslabs (bones) were hard to get through, and I think I punctured a couple waterlines (veins).

I dug and dug and dug and dug and

dug in search of the light you knew existed. Some new consciousness I never percieved. Or so you thought. Cuts and blisters made way for scars and callouses. (Sorry about the blood on your shovel.)

Two days later I reached a burial ground in one of my ventricles or atriums (I was never good with anatomy). No headstones or flowers or graves, only crumpled up balls of paper littered the ground. They were stained with the words I was once too young to understand. Long lost but never forgotten.

I moved on. (It wasn't a bright place.)

It seemed I'd been digging for months when I suddenly




crashed! through a wall and landed in a fading bed of coals. They weren't even hot enough to burn me.

Could this be what you were talking about? Did I find my treasurous light?

Yes.

This fire was my light,

and you put it out.


But I knew it was there. You were not the omniscient bitch your ego made you believe. I only came to stoke the coals and add some fuel (thoughts,). It'll be blazing in no time.

Thanks for the adventure.


PS: Don't (bother) comment(ing).

1 day[s] remain | the end is here


alastar

:: 2005 27 August :: 1.02am

Uncontrollable

Break the bars on this cage of my skeleton. Rip through the straight-jacket of my skin. I want out of this flesh and bone, I want release.

1 day[s] remain | the end is here


alastar

:: 2005 25 August :: 10.47pm
:: Music: the Strokes

Cold-Blooded Invertebrate

You don't seem to feel much. I wonder if you'd notice your back cracking along your spine up to your skull and shattering around your brain. Or maybe my fingers thrust down your throat in search of your lungs.

Driving, charging, pushing through your skin. Your chest.

Would you notice me pulling at your ribs as if they were levers? I wonder if I can make you dance. Digging through your flesh and muscles. Getting my fingers tangled in your veins. Where is the heart?

Where is your heart?

1 day[s] remain | the end is here


alastar

:: 2005 25 August :: 6.35pm
:: Music: At the Drive-In

The flash is on. Get ready.

I'd wrap circles of sentences and cycles of syllables right around your head, honey. Repeat, refrain, repeat. refrain.

I'd dance on your tongue with mine, and not in the fashionable sense, no. You wouldn't enjoy.

And the axe would end up falling, like it always does. Splitting our words down to letters and screams to whispers. And what sense or service does a barely audible string of random parts of the alphabet have in a fight?

Let's do this again sometime.

4 day[s] remain | the end is here


alastar

:: 2005 23 August :: 10.47pm
:: Music: A Perfect Circle

Dynamite fists with blood on her lips

She fell from the sky like an atom bomb nightmare. I never saw her coming. Heat-seeking blood-thirsty little bitch-missile.

We've had so many shotgun blast conversations with words for bullets and hearts for targets.

And I'd have to say, you're an impressive marks(wo)man.

3 day[s] remain | the end is here


alastar

:: 2005 23 August :: 7.24pm
:: Music: Nine Inch Nails - Hurt

Wrapped in red and sarcasm

"Like every poking needle is trying to become a vein,
All these wires just want to replace your brain."


I just want to feed it.
It's instinct.
Feed the hunger, feed, feed.
Need, want, need fuel.
Nothing personal, just primal.

Yeah, you'll feel it. But don't worry, you'll be dead soon.

This is an inferno. The blaze of hunger. It's burning a hole in the pit of my stomach. I can feel the flames in my veins. My muscles are on fire. Feel the burn.

Feed the burn. I've got to




got to feed the fire.

the end is here


alastar

:: 2005 23 August :: 2.59pm

I'm just trying to make sense of all these stolen verses.

2 day[s] remain | the end is here


xhan

:: 2005 20 August :: 5.02pm
:: Mood: Betrayed

Just goes to show that you can't trust anyone in this world.

I'm with Britt on this one.

I think we all deserve an explanation.

-xhan

2 day[s] remain | the end is here


alastar

:: 2005 18 August :: 7.17pm
:: Music: Thursday

You can't put these eyes out


I write these words in rhythm with my pulse
Every artery thumping as my heart rate falls

Slower.
slower..

slower...


These'll be the last you have to read.

the end is here


cowboy67

:: 2005 14 August :: 3.05pm

click-a-roo!

1 day[s] remain | the end is here


cowboy67

:: 2005 12 August :: 12.08am

alyssa
august 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26

4 day[s] remain | the end is here


alastar

:: 2005 10 August :: 9.57pm
:: Music: Stars - Set Yourself On Fire

You mouth your favorite words as I drag my teeth across your skin.

1 day[s] remain | the end is here


cowboy67

:: 2005 9 August :: 2.31am

we are comfortable being uncomfortable.
the thing is, i would rather die because of my body than die because of my brain.

the end is here

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