(positive and negative)'s Journal [entries|friends|calendar] (positive and negative) i didn't want to go to bed and i didn't want to stay up late. [ userinfo | livejournal userinfo ] [ calendar | livejournal calendar ]

[Dec 28 /1031PM] there was blood in my mouth. it might have been mine. the cold tiles of my bathroom floor were TV screens, replaying the same scene. just with different characters. and it made me sick, i wanted to hurl. i might have. i wanted to cry, but i couldn't. i look stupid when i cry. "just one more" i heard it over and over again. maybe this time would be different. "just one more". there had to be glamour in this somewhere. "just one more" they said. and then a kiss, which felt strangely like good-bye. through this hotline

[Aug 23 /1038AM] it might have been real. (look into my eyes, and i'll show you what the sun is made of) their lives expanded on for miles, miles with mountains and oceans and everything else used in classic trite poetry. of course the sun rose and set, as it did everywhere else, but there, it had a purpose. there it changed the world. it was real. (come with me tonight and i'll teach you about the stars) of course the chance never came. and the shadows lay down to sleep for the last time, as they waited for the sun to rise. through this hotline

[May 05 /1032PM] "just a deceitful kiss from sin drenched lips." thats what she told herself at night,anyways. there was a beautiful seam where the sea met the sky... ...just as the rain had started to fall looking back, no seconds had been wasted. (but every minute had.) and in the morning they wake alone, as the rain pours from the cloudless sky and tell themselves that the nothingness means everything. through this hotline

[Apr 10 /0747AM] they say it's pretty here when the orchids bloom. we drove for months on highways that were lined with yellow flowers and chalk marks. crows wove in out of the cars, brushing their wings against the sun. they say there are fireworks in august. we were counting down the miles until the butterflys didn't matter anymore and the shadows on the backseat became pink and gray. with windows down and our gaurds up, we drove for months into the morning. hotline

[Mar 21 /1252PM] this was a city of postcards. the daylight looked out of place and the night was made of movies."careful," he smiled "this could draw blood" flashback. a day it had rained, if only for a second or two. yes, this was where the wheatgrass grew and the indian summer spun the sky. cloaked in blankets to hide the stars, this was where the darkness grew. hotline

navigation [ viewing | most recent entries ] [ go | earlier ]