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entropy victim

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excess innocence [Aug. 16th, 2008|09:24 am]
entropy victim
The immense amount of noise, steering clear of the immediate moment. 'Unclarity' wrapped in a tight little package of denim and american apparel. All is lost.

All exception lost. Only denim and cloth separating them from the inevitable. Alone they sat till all exceptions were fulfilled.

But they remembered the beginning and the end.Materials aside, the moral stayed the same. In the end there was one. The i and no other, so close as any have came.
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lost is transfiguration. . . . .. . [Apr. 7th, 2004|08:41 pm]
entropy victim
Pretentious little fingers lacking money, excessing time; that is my predicament.
Relief of creative minds in dispelling of fortified kinds,
Fornication and best-sought debauchery.
Respond to age previous in next epoch ahead,
God-like seen self, man-like deception of extent.
Immortal, infallible, burning paper folded in curious ways.
Prentend we don’t see ends,
pretend the clear demise is blurred,
fake like we live
fake like we die.
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carnage again [Feb. 2nd, 2004|12:24 am]
entropy victim
it is this carnivorous implication of meaning that surrounds my empty chest cavity.
cautiously approach the end, but hold tightly to your rope of thoughts.
what in time will come of this bitter taste and this far bitterer man.
madness sets in every moment, every single second..
it eats my thoughts like a thirsty little demon.
those birds are comforting, those songs so settling.
where do you lead raven, good friend?
inquisition is wearing thin. . .is wear thin. ..
raven. . .
friend?. ...
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fornication [Dec. 22nd, 2003|08:51 am]
entropy victim
It was that light that first cursed my hands; then my lips, now my heart. The only hope left is left in care of the one trusted least.
Goggles and helmet please. Bombing interior, fifty-four meters. Carnage, be best, an only true test. Decimate all trace, not a living thought left thinking, not a breathing hope left intact. Beat the eyelashes, waive pale hand. Do all you can to evade end’s thought. Evade all you may to do last end. An end to the means for a means to the end. Fair trade, equal weight. One liter of wine and a pack of cigarettes. Supplies to end means’ end. Valium and Xanax. Vaccum of context. Smile the lips and beat the eyelashes. Live to die.
Live to die.
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carnations laying in water-soaked lies [Dec. 22nd, 2003|08:49 am]
entropy victim
Gobs of nationalism pour our streets
American die, American kill
Collective senses of order and form
Normative creations evil scorn
Dusk dawns a day of dark thought
Intellectuals die, descending sky
Tables wobble in wavered ways
Cherished value spots an end
I think, therefore I am dead
I believe, then I lived
Tomorrow rotten;
Tomorrow gone
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movements [Dec. 4th, 2003|08:18 am]
entropy victim
What else can I say? The feelings migrate like a transient bird.
At times we see through this shielded vision; it’s not all a waste.
Malory writes of our heroes come to save,
but so many others speak of the evils come to enslave.
My worries surpass my want for more,
and the time is running out in some far off place.
Copy,paste,save.
Living’s not that easy, and death is not so rough.
But ousting my life with cold blade embrace,
will barely wipe the frown from my pale, stone face.
Let us find some solace in the windy towns,
and far above the ground to heights distant from now.
Come forth bearing all gifts that from pure hearts run free;
put shame to the evils who toil for blame.
As though placed in solid statues of gold,
the memories of good men live past those so cold.
Few are remembered who drowned in corruption and vices of men.
Then forward I push for all of mankind, refuse my own wants and evil design.
Refuse all that brings on the robbery of me.
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the retched retched being [Nov. 26th, 2003|11:31 pm]
entropy victim
ive known it all the time
i remember the early, early days of 1998
it was there then, thats why i hurt so much
some believe that this thing is in vain
but i know it is not
still i do not speak of it
the emotions leap from my chest
but my arms hold them back
they have done that for six long years
its not simple, its not that complex
i distracted myself with fun little games
and now those games are gone
i realized they were always just games
at least for them
six years and i never spoke a word
i just stood behind and caught the falling pieces
again and again
caught the falling glances, caught the falling moments
moments. .. ..
i miss them. . .
i miss all of it. ..
especially the feeling when i see the radiance.. .
come back. . . soon . ..
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forseen. . . [Nov. 15th, 2003|01:09 am]
entropy victim
there i stand. . .there i see the world waste away. . .
its not a gift, its not a curse, its who i am
forty six days i waited for truth,
forty six days my knocker never moved.
why god does this mechanism beat,
when will the blood flow short.
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sex like chinese food [Nov. 3rd, 2003|09:31 am]
entropy victim
[mood |pseudo]
[music |chatter and banter]

Perhaps I am a parasite; dying slowly between each hapless victim. No matter the topic nor point nor occasion, I arise cheerful to discuss and embrace. And what now comes when these times run thin? The ever present sadness comes pressing in. Loneliness is my sanctuary, but this sanctuary is defiled. I closed the large wooden doors, and permitted none to enter; but this disease has eaten within. Do I dare risk the visitation of any in my heart? Those before have left wounds and deep bruises, too large to heal. Better the question, is there any who dare pass the step into the dark, dank place. Is there treasure unfound, sweet enough to seek? And now my eyes have really failed. The ink of reality is washing away. Will sleep come easy? Is this now sleep? These things I do not know.
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rockets of gold [Oct. 31st, 2003|01:01 am]
entropy victim
[mood |coarse]
[music |rehab]

tell me again why i run in these circles
tell me again why i try to defend
where is the point in this grim land of hurdles
when is the time of our bittersweet end
dancers delight in the fight to keep moving
workermen cry in the darkness of night
today babies birthed to the wasteside of earning
tomorrow men die for the fancies of greed
teach us to speak and we yell at the maker
show us to think and we doubt till were dead
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