ode to a GI,only living to diepensive expression, red sun-burnt face contrasting sharply against fine, blond, hair. he works with care, deliberately movingode to a GI,only living to die
his dirty, black, hands.
dressed in shades to match the earth yet he is not disguised, but conspicuous in the vast, dry, desert. machines scream and the sky is white.
fingers fiddle with an unknown tool. lips parted, not to kiss the lover left lonely, but planning, confused,
consistently working, constantly afraid- catastrophically hiding it. firmly set in a concrete field
spotted with bent, steel, trees, surrounded by the lifeless
The Emperor's Ethics"Accident" was never a part of my extensive vocabulary. Everything always happens for a reason, and god do I know it well. How else can you explain being sick and tired of the places you call home? Home is just a place to put your life on hold and let your guard down- all you have are the thoughts of what makes you hurt the most. Walls, a ceiling and a dusty floor confine, and the feeling won't escape and neither can I. Nothing about this is as special as I'd like it to be or as you pretend it to be. Is it lies or is it all confusion? Humanity hurts so bad and it always will. Lines get blurred between true love and lust, but tell me dear, whaThe Emperor's Ethics
Maybe I Should...Secrets don't make friends, but oh, do friends make them well. Every line in your face and gash on your skin has it's own story to tell. Look at me with those beautiful telling eyes, but who's to tell what you see? I know what you're thinking baby... You wear that bloody broken heart on your sleeve. Lies make enemies, but oh, how easily they make love. Misleading me is too easy, the irony of lying to gain my trust. The bad news will be rolling in from the west with this terrible winter storm, This one has to be the worst, leaving lives a mess, a cold wind, a shiver, a shudder TeMaybe I Should...
You and Your Big DreamsReady, set,You and Your Big Dreams
say it like you want it.
It's time again to knock me out, Knock me off my feet and turn this life around. You'd like to believe you're so good at this game
and you strut your shit to put the other boys to shame. But you're the only one with anything to regret, And you were right, sweetheart. You are everything to everyone With a bullet through your head. Mercy, Mercy. You're begging for something to give. You're having the "time of your life" But this
I dance in clown shoes.You compose your conversations. Fitfully gesturing with whatever you hold, ending arguments with a flourish. Make a point, now whirl, quickly. Make it impossible to counter with your unpunctuation. You duck and weave, spin, sidestep, pirouette: One, two, one, two, faster, harder, stronger. You leave me confused and two steps back,I dance in clown shoes.
just far enough behind to appear lost and unsure. And if I catch up, if I make a point, you spin again, a trail of words falling like pixie dust as you make your escape. And as you storm out, you slam the period behind you, Ending your se
The Old Child
--
.So so what? I'm still a rockstar,
i've got my rock moves and i don't need you.
non muore mai ciò che sei,non dimenticarlo.
:iconPeperytaPattyAP:
My New Stock.
ha ha
--
found religion inside myself
i drank the blood, the flesh was stale
--
Member of =DA-digital =onewordphoto ~francophones
"I'm French! Why do think I have this outrageous accent, you silly king-a?!"
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