Aeon Psyche
Bluelighter
- Joined
- Dec 11, 2007
- Messages
- 2,147
Haha, I like hip hop. : )
A constant state of adrenaline. A sort of phrase that erases all other momental seconds around the phase of an anxious kid.
Perpetually entwined inside while the dimensions move tanks and hit-men. In to my timeline it is different.
I live inside a frame that moves in an unbearable shame. Invisibly guilty of belief that I'm ugly.
Deceived I'm rubbish from a witch with the most extreme curses. You couldn't believe it's purpose.
You couldn't see what I would. You're cutenes was impossible to find. You couldn't stand it whenever I looked for a peek at chu.
God bless. Left no reason to care. I never said more as my internal organs were turning morbid.
Your curse words were a lot more hurting than a bunch of times I was served of inclined destruction.
Every little kid cried for certain, and any adult wouldn't time-out either for this burden.
Being put nitrogenium on my bare skin is the physical worst pain you could inherit and even if I do say so to express it.
It meant a lot less in comparison by the unbearable year that exceeded like centuries.
These tears however were meant to be. A memory of a future event.
I knew I was going to fall in love but I never knew the tragedy it would represent.
I ressurected but am forever perplexed with post traumatic residents.
I open my mailbox full of five-leafed clovers just to find out they already wilt.
You won't accept me? there's guilt. I didn't intend to hurt your feelings, I guess we're opposites as long as you're breathing.
But the opposite side of the world? Really? What are you doing in australia munching on some pizzas?
Fuck it, I'm over you but the dosage of benzodiazepines just keeps growing older with no other intermediates.
I supposedly loved you so much I am no more approachable for speaking. In moments I want to hold you.
In other moments I want to hold you in a yoke but I am the one who's groping
for pieces of my interior to hold on to stress relievers.
I was once depressed but fuck it. That never will have a sequel.
Extra seroquels won't bury or heal it. You're unbearbably cute. I pull a pair of underwear over my head, going bananas.
I cope with having no more ego. My social impression is to grotesque to mess with.
I just wish you knew how much you've hurt me. But I know now who I am and you can't open new impressions
by having a periscope in the wrong direction. I'll be your ghostdriver and drive my whole soul into your deception.
It's going to be now or never. You don't even remotely understand it. This whole ordeal is my shout out but whatever.
I'm not sounding desperate but a let me know would show up as extatic. More post-its with love notes in the trashbin.
You have been my empathy you shouldn't joke with. The turn of events that since than I couldn't cope with,
abusing potions corroding my sixth sense. Schizophrenic at fifteen? Let me explain my misery after this scene.
Kicked out of school. I've been so revengefull because of you. I miss michelle ever since I met her and I love her too.
From the ink in my pen to your blue eyes as I write to you, all I want is forgiveness and switch words
instead of litteracy to pick up which swords? We shouldn't fight but give it up as I just want to listen to you.
Converse, get a different opinion for us two.
Still those words more unfit than any pertinent physical misery can be misinterpreted as I divert this pool of wounds.
When I did four years in mental clinics and managing to get kicked out my parents residence where I was living.
Another four years homeless so I remained in them goddamn mental clinics. Got kicked out a few more.
Duplicating like I was trying to multiply my score. for no real reason I was sentenced just because some
retard got offended for me dropping a piece of paper on the floor that molested his whole understanding
by not knowing a week is seven days instead of eight. But hey, we live in a world were even jesus has a major police record.
They leave me be in december. It's to cold for a fort on the beach like a sandcastle. Homeless and broke.
Although I never begged for a cent. Eventually I slept in a small park where the grosest snails were throwing a trail all over me.
So, you see. My life's been almost always total shit, because of you and because you provoked my tears to be the equivocal
of a post traumatic stress disorder I owe to you but that noone sees.
A constant state of adrenaline. A sort of phrase that erases all other momental seconds around the phase of an anxious kid.
Perpetually entwined inside while the dimensions move tanks and hit-men. In to my timeline it is different.
I live inside a frame that moves in an unbearable shame. Invisibly guilty of belief that I'm ugly.
Deceived I'm rubbish from a witch with the most extreme curses. You couldn't believe it's purpose.
You couldn't see what I would. You're cutenes was impossible to find. You couldn't stand it whenever I looked for a peek at chu.
God bless. Left no reason to care. I never said more as my internal organs were turning morbid.
Your curse words were a lot more hurting than a bunch of times I was served of inclined destruction.
Every little kid cried for certain, and any adult wouldn't time-out either for this burden.
Being put nitrogenium on my bare skin is the physical worst pain you could inherit and even if I do say so to express it.
It meant a lot less in comparison by the unbearable year that exceeded like centuries.
These tears however were meant to be. A memory of a future event.
I knew I was going to fall in love but I never knew the tragedy it would represent.
I ressurected but am forever perplexed with post traumatic residents.
I open my mailbox full of five-leafed clovers just to find out they already wilt.
You won't accept me? there's guilt. I didn't intend to hurt your feelings, I guess we're opposites as long as you're breathing.
But the opposite side of the world? Really? What are you doing in australia munching on some pizzas?
Fuck it, I'm over you but the dosage of benzodiazepines just keeps growing older with no other intermediates.
I supposedly loved you so much I am no more approachable for speaking. In moments I want to hold you.
In other moments I want to hold you in a yoke but I am the one who's groping
for pieces of my interior to hold on to stress relievers.
I was once depressed but fuck it. That never will have a sequel.
Extra seroquels won't bury or heal it. You're unbearbably cute. I pull a pair of underwear over my head, going bananas.
I cope with having no more ego. My social impression is to grotesque to mess with.
I just wish you knew how much you've hurt me. But I know now who I am and you can't open new impressions
by having a periscope in the wrong direction. I'll be your ghostdriver and drive my whole soul into your deception.
It's going to be now or never. You don't even remotely understand it. This whole ordeal is my shout out but whatever.
I'm not sounding desperate but a let me know would show up as extatic. More post-its with love notes in the trashbin.
You have been my empathy you shouldn't joke with. The turn of events that since than I couldn't cope with,
abusing potions corroding my sixth sense. Schizophrenic at fifteen? Let me explain my misery after this scene.
Kicked out of school. I've been so revengefull because of you. I miss michelle ever since I met her and I love her too.
From the ink in my pen to your blue eyes as I write to you, all I want is forgiveness and switch words
instead of litteracy to pick up which swords? We shouldn't fight but give it up as I just want to listen to you.
Converse, get a different opinion for us two.
Still those words more unfit than any pertinent physical misery can be misinterpreted as I divert this pool of wounds.
When I did four years in mental clinics and managing to get kicked out my parents residence where I was living.
Another four years homeless so I remained in them goddamn mental clinics. Got kicked out a few more.
Duplicating like I was trying to multiply my score. for no real reason I was sentenced just because some
retard got offended for me dropping a piece of paper on the floor that molested his whole understanding
by not knowing a week is seven days instead of eight. But hey, we live in a world were even jesus has a major police record.
They leave me be in december. It's to cold for a fort on the beach like a sandcastle. Homeless and broke.
Although I never begged for a cent. Eventually I slept in a small park where the grosest snails were throwing a trail all over me.
So, you see. My life's been almost always total shit, because of you and because you provoked my tears to be the equivocal
of a post traumatic stress disorder I owe to you but that noone sees.