Ragdoll's profile

A fascinating brilliance takes your eyes and makes them brighter at just the mention of her name. Your lips turn up a smile that surpasses that of a happy man. I see a spark in you that appears when she merely grazes your mind. She triggers the best in you. and yet, as the night lingers an awful burning clutches your chest and begins to hurt, remembering her. Still, a bitter taste corrodes your throat… for she, the object of your passion becomes the center of your pain. And the light in your ...

of all the nights spent stealing sleep i curse this evening most of all. it sinks in slower, just as deep at the absence of your call. you've obviously been occupied and, like a fool i sat to wait. a small infringement opens wide screaming out that it's too late. hours seem to pass me by and i begin to feel ignored. desperate for a reason why longing to be reassured. as simple as it may appear that which hurts me most of all, is that you just left me here lonely, waiting for your call.

She made a beautiful dead body. Her eyes, a light crystal green and almost glittering blue strewn in and out of her irises. Pale, cold, flawless skin, ran beautifully over every inch of her. Deep red hair cloaked her face. Living, she was just another face; another empty resident of this twisted, coroaded earth. Dead, she was a work of art. I cannot, and will not lie, and you will find this evident as you proceed onward. All i say is complete fact, right down to the things that are hard to ad...

Inhale. beneath your ribs, your heart rattles in panic. are you feeling alone? self blame is only relevant. you chose this fate with the snap of the trigger. and now look what you've done... made a permanent mess finalized in blood the air above your head thickens. this concrete cell is all but inviting. become acquainted with these stale, indifferent walls. you're a prisoner now. caged like a simple animal... but humans are animals too... ceiling lights flicker in an epileptic seizure, illum...

The staircase winds beneath your feet, you tread the steps internally. Behind you, a door latches and locks. Your choice has been made. Bloodlust lurks in your braincells, creeping about your nerve endings, acting on the trigger finger. You peer off the balcony, and sigh at the scent of fresh terror. Your lips thirst for reaction. You hunger to obseve the dream fulfilled. The canvas is laid out before you. and you paint it with crimson one life at a time. In with a bullet, out with art. This ...