A chemical addiction
Monstruous mental disorders
Such a dim light shining on a beautiful life
A strong feeling of helplessness devouring his soul
Anxiety that not even Xanax can fix
Pill after pill, it never gets better
It only gets worse
The feeling of being all alone
The depression and anxiety rise
One milligram over what his body can handle
One big mistake that can affect more lives that he could ever believe
People more important than the big, black entity looming over his life
Such a light that it casts the creature back to the shadows of his mind
A shining light that helps him to s
The poet's on fire
But he doesn't mind
He has been burning before and this will not be the last time
He knows how to stay alive in the flames
The band accompanies the burning man with beautiful music
Hard as velvet, soft as a mountain
With a voice that is deep and dark with the softness of a loving heart
The large man sings from the fire
Songs that caresses my ears and soon I can't feel my body anymore
He sings about life and death and love and loss
It feels like he sings from his soul
And my heart aches
His song gets stronger
And I don't even notice that he has stopped burning
Because even though the genuine fire is gone
Water sloshed inside the kettle. From the kitchen, Frank could see into the living room; the place where linoleum met carpet and where the flashing lights from the television set illuminated the couch. The back wall. Gerards passive, sleepy face. Frank turned on the gas burner.
Gerard chewed on his thumbnail in the other room, visible through the large, wooden walk way. He was leaning forward, elbows on his knees. Frank said nothing. He watched condensation gather on the kettles metal surface, beginning around the middle and then dripping down and hissing in the fire. Like tears or sweat. He picked up the tea kettle by the black
Current Residence: In the Basment deviantWEAR sizing preference: M Favourite genre of music: Rock, rock, rock Favourite photographer: Don't... have... a ... clue Favourite style of art: BLACK/WHITE, I dunno if that's a style, but I <3 blackwhite Operating System: a screwdriver MP3 player of choice: Still not an Ipod Favourite cartoon character: Wolverine Personal Quote: huh.... I don't get it.
Favourite Visual Artist
Once upon a time in Mexico for sure!
Favourite Bands / Musical Artists
My chemical Romance, Three days grace and some other shit atm
Then I guess stephen King, last time I read a REAL book it was one of his
yeah first time ever. Everybody seems to be doing it so why not start a journal. 'm always good at starting things, I should earn a golden star with bright pink fluffy ends. To bad I never finish much and those stars don't exist... maybe I should make some 'm sure they will do it awsome on the market of the big WWW.
But anway 'm lazy today so I just dump something I also dumped on my LJ (see I started lots of things)
So here we go, I throw: Homofobia....
Homofobia, it really creeps me out and believe me not many things creep me out. This one does. Homofobia, two words merge into one. Homo, long def but means the same in latin. Fobia, a fea
Want you to know that you are amazing & you're my friend until my death. If I don't get this back, I understand. But I have a game for you, once you read this letter, you must send it to 15 people, including the person that sent it to you. If you recieve at least 3 back, you are loved. Nobody knows how important something is until..........they lose it.
I havent been that active lately on tbp. Kinda died I'm not sure but writing is a little gone for me. I'm living on my own now, have a job a social life and I dont have much time to write anymore. I think that even Crazy is on a very very long hold up. The only thing I'm still working on Pyromania and Id still like to add one chapter of read between (for the heck of it. it saddens me, because frerard and tbp used to mean a lot to me
I agree, I mean, I'm feeling sorta the same. I'm trying to write for competitions to earn money now that I'm in university. Fanfiction just hasn't been pulling me like it used to, and again it used to mean a lot to me too I've met a lot of nice people through writing fiction. Hey, at least it had a peak time that was great... maybe it'll return but I'm also busy with life at the moment. I'll always come back every now and then to read your stories and other's though What d'you work as now|? x