halomode's profile

Fear of fear threatens destruction of self and mental health, a requirement for “enduring to the end.” Tangible or not, withstandable or not, to whom should my debt be sent? To the Lord or the Prince, taking mundane claims at their desks at the end of the world. Where will mine end up? Or doubtlessly lost amidst clouds of sheep counting casualties of those who fear this fear with me. Advice fallen flat upon the salts of time; Time: a destraction from sinful crimes, keep me from what’s rightfu...

Unceasing, increasing forever melodrama decreasing, diseasing brainwaves slow to a halt. Medicated me is an uneducated me stuck between, no luck it seems for the fucked-up to bring about any kind of change- spare or not. Burning bosom, burning tree but usually it's just heartburn from all the breaking at the seams. Forget me...not after all you were nailed on a cross. I call on you often for any other thoughts but my own.

Threats of anxiety shape my suffering today in hopes of Tomorrow's Society Hybrid personalities out here in the big red square Mixes of facade & self-realism make me wanna throw-up. Ask advice- Bullshit. We'll all pay the price one day. Lost in thought but thoughts are lost- shot through, shot-up no tangible ideas are accepted here. I'm bored again Half-lives have been restored again into blood- Threatening my only love anxiously awaiting the end.

between these thick thighs you will find: happiest girl. she fears she fears fear how queer and irrational is she, this happiest girl. She dreams of sharp things and clings to what they provide. In space there are pointy objects. In space it is ethereal- a place to go snooping for lost heirlooms, such as family, god and a woman who only wants her little girl to be the happiest.

The first year is gone, beneath the ground and in dreams to be found. She's there and here, gone away for a year. The questions arisen still drowning my thoughts- a watery prison, or a pathway to her and to God? or just natural explorations of the body's expiration? And for a young man's family the year has just begun; A fragile, broken frame covered in blood. There seems to be no meaning, yet there will always be a gun. There seems to be no feeling left, but we will always have the sun. The ...