:: .:d i c e d:. ::

I'd like to write a poem or prose so nice
The ones that ooze with good advice
The types full of wisdom and truth
The ones that can calm and soothe

Or maybe a verse full of wit
That'll make readers go "That's neat!"
But all I can come up with is this lousy thing
About the things I keep wishing

I should come to terms with it
I really can't write for shit
DAMMIT!

Free Palestine!

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v Saturday, January 17, 2004 v

Alexisonfire is awesome...
The guitar, the screamcore and talking at intermissions and simultaneous as well, which fits it all nicely.

The dark, poignant lyrics which at first glance, seems blank but oh so deep within, like a frozen pool, a layer of ice so thin to disguise the cold depths beneath.
Adelleda
This is really only all we have: day time, twilight, pitch black, night light.
You had the coldest eyes and the softest touch:
day time, twilight, pitch black, night light.
These typed letters, beneath me.
Fuck with these buttons and knobs long enough
and maybe things will turn out fine.
Hide behind your crystal screen and blow kisses at me.
Remember what we said wouldn’t happen?
Write your name on my chest in kerosene.
Spark a match and you will never be cold again.
This is really only all we have:
day time, twilight, pitch black, night light.
You had the coldest eyes and the softest touch:
day time, twilight, pitch black, night light.
Gag and destroy me gag-me.
I have a large collection of thunder that I stole from your window sill.

A Dagger Through The Heart of St. Angeles
Plaid skirts that hide love walk in single file.
Ties that restrict blood to the brain.
Passing notes in math class,
(freedom ware your scars of desire),
it’s a coming of age story, (freedom ware your scars of desire),
conflicting impulses, (freedom wear your scars of desire)
cuts seem they must bleach ur skin.
I’ve read this book before.
Anxious eyes stare out of warped glass waiting for the 3 o’clock bell.

I’m trying hard to forget that cold october day,
when love challenged freedom to a fist fight,
freedom looked victorious but no one was expecting the outcome
on that baseball diamond
when love reached beneath her plaid jumper,
pulled out a switch blade and drove it…
directly through the heart of st angeles.
go...
Any notion of self government was left alone bleeding on the pitchers mound.

~wYLdeFiLLy~ 11:54 am [+]