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The Cracked SmileYour face is an abandoned buildingThe Cracked Smile
your lips are vacant lots your body is a ghetto where the fiends go to hide in your eyes are the fading embers of a million pipes smoked and blunts rolled now fading to white ash now coursing down your cheeks like tears laughing as you grip the steering wheel speeding through the forest the road ahead rises and falls and twists lit up like a scene in a movie you took the easy way out abandoned everything and left love lying crushed on the ground the detritus of a million wasted fucks sticks to your skin
by ~wakeupinhell
A Glimmer Through the TreesJanet smiled and sighed a long, contented sigh. She was sitting next to the man of her dreams. They say these things don’t happen but they were wrong. There he was, as real as could be, her Prince Charming, the sinking sun lighting up his perfect profile and turning his hair golden. He had come and swept her off her feet, just like she had always imagined.A Glimmer Through the Trees
The car hit a pothole and she was brought back to reality, to the car and the road and the forest that was quickly swallowing them up. They were on the way to Peter’s old house in the mountains, the one that his grandfather had built in the wilderness with his own bare hands.
by ~wakeupinhell
The BountyKent looked out, across the strand and the endless black mirror of the sea. It was cold. Kent was cold, in his ragged long coat and ragged hat. His bare ankles were lashed by the wind (his socks had rotted away long ago) and his toes felt stiff, cold, dead, in his thin, ragged canvas sneakers.The Bounty
It was a cloudy day and the sun was nothing but a pale disk. The sea was dark and calm, its surface inscrutable. Dead, opaque and slightly reflective, like the eyes of a drowned man, it might as well have been endless.
The wind screamed. It lashed Kent’s face, reaching through his coat, skin, layers of muscle and fat, through
by ~wakeupinhell
The Doll HouseIt was not quite silent. Somewhere far off the low whine of a lawnmower, a sound that lodged in Mark’s brain like a tumor. Outside, the Leary’s groomed lawn stretched to touch the black of the pavement. Heat radiated from the asphalt and thickened the air. Leaving the air conditioned house was like walking through a sheet of melted glass, into the blistering heat.The Doll House
“So what do you want to do?” asked James. “I don’t know.” replied Mark. “What do you want to do? This is your house.” James sat there, thinking.
Mark played with the little bracelet Lily had given him, turning it round an
by ~wakeupinhell
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Devious Info
- Current Residence: The Suburbs
- Interests: reading.nature.anarchism.writing.drawing.resistance.mythology.philosophy.
- Favourite movie: Last Days.Taxi Driver.Apocalypse Now.Donnie Darko.Blue Velvet.Eraserhead.The Shining.LOTR.
- Favourite band or musician: Gorgoroth.Converge.Opeth.Mastodon.Iron Maiden.Aus-Rotten.Bread And Water.His Hero Is Gone.pg 99.
- Favourite genre of music: .Crust Punk.D-Beat.Hardcore.Black Metal.Grindcore.Death Metal.Doom Metal.Drone.REAL Emo.Goth.Folk.
- Favourite artist: .Hieronymus Bosch.Franciso Goya.Pieter Bruegal.Gustave Dore.Salvador Dali.Evard Munch.
- Favourite poet or writer: .Lovecraft.Poe.Steinbeck.Selby Jr.Ginsberg.Dostoevsky.Roth.Gaiman.Jordan.Ellis.Barker.Hemingway.
- Favourite photographer: I'm not really into photography.
- Favourite style of art: .woodcuts.paintings.engravings.etchings. I don't really get this question...
- Operating System: Dell, unfortunately.
- MP3 player of choice: Sansa Sandisk. iM not a sheep. Get it? Get it???
- Shell of choice: What??? Idk, conchs are pretty cool.
- Wallpaper of choice: Ummm...the kind with ships on it?
- Skin of choice: Smooth yet tough, with just the right amount of callous and maybe a few battle scars.
- Favourite game: Chess.
- Favourite gaming platform: A chessboard.
- Favourite cartoon character: God
- Personal Quote: "Breaking faces is my business!"
- Tools of the Trade: A baseball bat.
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If love is surrender
Then whose war is it anyway?
cut the 'let it snow' shit
HEY WELCOME TO DA
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If love is surrender
Then whose war is it anyway?
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