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and 3 bled on cursive letters from a lover too far away forge a flesh ditch into her wrist and flood it with the red

here's to luck and to whom have have not found it. [21 Jan 2004|07:14am]
here's to me.

my pet iguana, "icky"...died last night. he was ten years old and i thought that was the worst that could happen. i was wrong.

tye was right, "this band is therapy." although, when he said it, he was talking about it's significant meaning to him. however, i too, have come to realize that's what it was to me.

keyword: was

don't type that into a search engine, it's meaning is only meaningful to me.

Willow(only word you will find capitalized in my journal) is the best thing that ever happened to me. i began to take it for granted, and lost my temper with individuals in the band. it seems that my past actions have caught up to me. for i am, no longer in that band.

that therapist.

it seems my check has bounced.

for reasons left untold to me, which makes it much worse. i have no idea at what point and(or 'in') time where exactly i made foul. i can only blame myself. but i am far past self-pity, or need for sympathy. but if that was the case, why would i be writing this in a public journal entry? i'm too honest right to make a point.

hearing this decision made over the phone, was probably the worst thing. it's like a over the phone break-up. there's nothing you can say or do, it's spontaneous and you are left breathless but heavy breathing, to help better vent out the tears. i had my dad take over to tye's house in order to retrieve my stuff, but i really didn't care about it, at all. i wanted a reason to see if what tye said, was true. "this isn't about being friends." it seemed as if it wasn't, all they spoke was silence and silence speaks volumes even when the television is set to "mute". that's how powerful silence is. they felt as akward as i did and i know it. but i am sure they didn't have to cover their eyes with a military beanie to soak up the tears before they fell down their cheeks. i did. what's worse? i had to stand for seven minutes, knowing i am the reason for the silence even though i have been top topic all day. (this is how we all work.) as i went up the stairs after everything was ready for me to take home...

i cried.

along with that, i said, "it has been more than a pleasure and i wish you all luck." i didn't want them to feel bad for their decision, but i couldn't hold the tears back in my voice anymore. as i opened the door to go outside, i found anthony on tye's frontdoor steps. he said one thing and i couldn't help it...

i cried harder.

while i did that, i found companionship in him as he hugged me in a friendly embrace, but what was i to do?

i began to shake.

and not but four minutes later did tye come out to ask me if i needed a ride, i had to talk again. he was going to hear my tears. i told him i was to call my dad, and he had to be the nice guy he is and ask me if i was sure...forcing me out of decency to let my tears be heard in my voice again. he soon closed to door, only for me to find someone walking up the lawn. it was scott saying, "did you guys record today?"

that single question, for some reason it just hit me all over again that i had lost one of the greatest things i had ever had a chance to be apart of. i would do anything to change for that band. that sounds weak. but it's true.

scott went inside and anthony continued to sit by me as studdered in the process of speaking while trying to hold back tears. but i failed at the second part of that mission, far too long ago. my dad arrived and i left, not without another hug from anthony...

so here i am, at home knowing that i have to tell my mom that i was kicked out of the band. that thing i always ask her approval about and my father, my father will be another story. my mom came to our last show and she actually gave me approval and respect for what i did. she finally had respect for me. and my sister, oh my god, my sister...she looked up to me. she wanted a hug from me after the show because she thought i was great with the band. my sister actually cared. fuck. now that's gone.

they've been online for fifteen minutes right now and none of them have even instant messaged me. (it was about friendship.) i can't type this anymore.

forge a flesh ditch into her wrist and flood it with the red

[03 Jan 2004|10:29pm]
well, with my host getting mailbombed and what-not...this journal will look like crap unless i went through every entry and changed the signature URL and shit. so yeah, i took the easy way out and took every song from this journal and put it into this one.

http://livejournal.com/users/helddear

yeah, i won't have much entries to insert a signature into when my host gets his new domain up and what-not, this will also mean the "willow" site will be back up. i apologize for the inconvienence of that. we have a show the first friday of returning back to school for students. hurrah. it's at the rockhill firehouse. we will be play with buried within, the space camp junkies(maybe?), crescendo falls(maybe?) and i don't know...but we will be there, and so will the mosh. word.

also, you should check out my first actual public journal entry in a long time, it's very important to me and deals with things of importance to me. and if you want to get added to my friend's list for this new journal, you have to add me first. this will see who really gives a damn about what i display in my journal and what i don't. see who gives a fuck. this is how.

forge a flesh ditch into her wrist and flood it with the red

a snowflake is to winter, as she is to me [22 Dec 2003|12:29am]
[ mood | this barren future... ]

a snowflake is to winter, as she is to me
i've never been a fan of the word, "settle". despite it's placement in the dictionary, i find it far and behind where you find, "satisfaction". but we are five pages past any sign of these. our picture can be found with the synonyms of "serenity". i never imagined an accord that could be so culminating. i know it's the thought that counts. that's why i'm making sure each of mine keep track with plus signs of the rosewater seconds made between her and i. if there is a little piece of heaven in each snowflake, by god, she was conceived in the perfect storm.

and....fuck.

and 4 bled on cursive letters from a lover too far away forge a flesh ditch into her wrist and flood it with the red

save your words for someone who cares. [19 Dec 2003|09:21am]
[ mood | nobody dies of old age... ]

it's what she didn't say, that spoke volumes
"are you ready yet? we have fifteen minutes until our reservations at the restaurant are over-booked." "..." "when you were young, did you mother tell you that you were uglier than all the other girls?" "..." "i'll make sure to slap her in the face. she fucking lied to you. now, quit sitting there on the end of the bed with your head hanging down and pick up your purse. let's go." i said, so eager to get the french diner on time. "..." silence is all that she spoke. in these moments of stale breaths, i dropped to my knees infront of her and comforted her with a gentle lift of her chin to see what was wrong only to have my hand graced by a tear. i looked up towards her face and replied, "why aren't you wearing the black pearl necklace i got you?" her only reply was a tear. i shifted my perception to her lap to find her hands cupped the necklace in it. i returned my attention to her eyes and said, "is it too big?" her only recognition of my words was a nod, accompanied by another tear. "well...pass me those black-gripped scissors on the nightstand, honey." she then, stretched across our white silk sheets for the scissors. "thanks dear," i replied in gratitude. "you're welcome", she replied as a smile seemed to paint across her face in tone of that appealing cardinal lipstick i bought her our previous anniversary. this is where everything changed. "you know what, how about we forget dinner..." i trail off as i softly push her onto her back across our bed. "and celebrate right here, right now?" she embraces my side of my neck with the sweet caress of her tongue. this was my cue. i took the scissors within my right hand, sweeped one of the blades into the side of her neck and came down on the black grip, allowing the other blade to come through the flesh and reunite with the other. pulling out the tool from within throat and dropped onto the floor, i thrust hand into the crimson gash made and pulled from her mouth her tongue, half-way out of this wound. "now that is the finest columbian necktie this bloodied hand can buy." i exclaimed with a smirk so secure on my face. "oh, the simple pleasures of taking life."

so i like the occasional chick flick
"the love we share so willingly, is much like one of those romantic comedies. heartfelt lines and picture perfect times that off the silver screen, seem so cheesey like the rhyme scheme to this ditty. but that's okay, all that matters is that you mean it with me. our fancied tunes at this time, decorated in scratches. worn-out like used matches and over-played according to the mass majority. our love grows strong, as fads and fashions seem to dissapear, completely. like this full-length that we still bob our heads side to side to, the whole way through. now let's put it in the player and pray our favorite tracks don't skip a single note or miss a beat. if our love is a song, can you please put it on 'repeat'?."

and we saw the heavens fall in the shape of every raindrop.

and 1 bled on cursive letters from a lover too far away forge a flesh ditch into her wrist and flood it with the red

slow down...it's getting hard for me to breathe [15 Dec 2003|11:51am]
[ mood | should've known better... ]

they don't give the nobel prize for these kind of things
"the bisymmetrical symmertry of a heart, only proven so with the division. the same solution comes from trying to solve numerous problems. "how can this be?" some may ask. it's the mysterious randomistic equation of love, with the conclusive of heartbreak. everytime. how random is that? it's sad to be the mathmetician that once developed and published this theory. i used to think it was better me than someone else at the chalkboard, shaking with this untencil at their fingertips. sometimes. i would push the chalk too hard against the blackboard, creating a debris that would soon, rest upon the toes of my shoes. reminders of the winter days, that i would walk a mile for you, just to see that gorgeous smile. but anywho, back to the drawing board. always. i would wonder why in so many scenarios, the same solution would be my end result. you'd think for one answer would be the variable "l" would be following by a repeating decimal. but somewhere in the equation, the variable would always cancel out, with the final solution, a zero embraced by a slash. this is a flashback before i saw my error. i needed two common denominators to maintain the "l" variable without compromising the formula. so here i am, three pasts gone, one present later. i found the conslusion i've been looking for. i found love."

beauty and the mortician
"you thirst for her like a unquenched monarch for the morning dew, freshly adduced upon these opening petals of a blossoming rose. trickling through the pursed white lips of the developing petals, a condensation about to fall from this perfect rose. the moment your brittle segmented legs gently set place upon this newborn flower, the dew you attempt to drink, spread-shots from the petal's crease to their depressed tips, facing towards the ground. in the action of a pitcher, the petals pour away the droplets you thirst for. with the saddening sound of the droplets embracing the ground, you look from above to see what you wanted, be soaked up by the mulch of these gardens. and she made you think, you were better than dirt."

la di fuck'in da
"my heart drops like the once proud soaring birds from the polluted skies above harbor shores onto wood-planked decks and into unforgiving currents, with no one to be the wringer. la di fuck'in da. to put them out of this intoxicating misery. to break their necks and end the short breaths they gasp for as they try to breathe. yes, it's true, my heart was once beating."

and when you were young, did your mother tell you that you were prettier than all the other girls? slap her in the face. she fucking lied to you.

forge a flesh ditch into her wrist and flood it with the red

the beach in december [12 Dec 2003|11:04am]
[ mood | the life of the living dead. ]

the beach in december
"outline my breath with the coldness that is, outside in the winter. slide your fingers down my spine to distract my shivers. wipe your tears on my tissue paper shoulder. dampen me until you weigh me down, then continue forth. your touch. your warmth. it feels like august, again. when i look into your eyes, i can see the summer sky. a shimmering azulic blue like diamonds along the ocean rim, reflecting off the moon's light. your gracious smile is more thanks than i deserve. you say my feelings will fade like those diamonds i speak of. blending in with each grain of sand when the tide crosses over them and sea buries them in vain. i would agree if my heart wasn't so damn fond of you. don't be afraid to cry infront of my eyes. i'll honor your every word with my own and nurtue your eyes by wiping away what it bleeds. my caresses against your heart will be truthful. don't ask me what makes you so different. do you ponder why roses of all flowers are an affection of love? i didn't think so and don't start doing so now. they just are and so are you."

and you would've never guessed.

and 6 bled on cursive letters from a lover too far away forge a flesh ditch into her wrist and flood it with the red

little note. [11 Dec 2003|11:15am]
[ mood | the passion is over... ]

i have no line.

you wanna play the pain game? very well. our next contestant, please. ::points to self:: i'm an expert. you compensated your imperfections and basic looks by developing an attitude, which is very attractive. you have the power to control the weak mind. but you are a slave to this power. for even if i had everything you wanted and it was laid out infront of you to grab hold, you couldn't. your pride won't let you.

everybody has a line of tolerance these people try to cross. they see just how far they can cross over that line. by talking to me you're already across it.

i have no tolerance for people like this. their powers and mind games. my power is my lack of tolerance, when these cross-ass, materialist fucks give me their act on how they are better than me or anyone else. they do not realize how lucky they are to be alive. they're lucky i didn't smash their pretty faces or disect their perfect bodies. if you confront me with this power, i will show you mine. i will show you my physical power and beat the living shit out of you. you know why? because i have no line.

forge a flesh ditch into her wrist and flood it with the red

go back to fiesta terrace, you homewrecker! [11 Dec 2003|12:13am]
[ mood | i was raised on x-rated moves. ]

go back to fiesta terrace, you homewrecker!
"you capitalized on my trust. every phrase i ever said. every moment i ever described. you said it and had it all with her before i could even make a move. 'been there, fuck'ted that'. i'll rip you apart. it will be hard to sweet talk another lady into bed without a mandible to help you express someone else's words. this is not wishful thinking. this is a plight to pummel you in ways no one has ever swung their fists before. to make you bleed in ways, no one has ever bled before. and then and only there, would originality come from you. there and only then, would you be original. this is a warrant for manslaughter. i fear not, what my fellow man may undo to me. i let my fellow man fear what i may do to them. kill or be killed."

and i am through with avoiding the problem.

and 3 bled on cursive letters from a lover too far away forge a flesh ditch into her wrist and flood it with the red

snail mail needs a block feature too [08 Dec 2003|12:17am]
[ mood | the life of the living dead... ]

snail mail needs a block feature too
"we were an accident. i was in the wrong place at the wrong time. my last words to you were, "sleep in the shadows. no one wants to see your face. you're starless." and yet you claim i'm your one and only? with a permanent marker i suggest you ink "forget" in a raven's shade across your heart. for your sake, maybe it will sink in. i no longer want to recieve any incoming mail from your nebraska domestic and electronic addresses. if this plea is not met, further actions will be made to accomidate my demands. so stop this before there's a chalked contour of your collapsed body on your bedroom floor. where i will have to stage a knocked over bottle of sleeping pills, left with only three remaining nearby your cadaver. the pleasure has been all yours in this final dialogue. 'send' -> 'sending...' -> 'sent'."

and i dropped the cigarette down the gas pump funnel. uh-oh.

forge a flesh ditch into her wrist and flood it with the red

atleast i don't own a slytherin t-shirt [07 Dec 2003|09:16pm]
[ mood | looking for the roses... ]

atleast i don't own a slytherin t-shirt
"you are the culprit. you're murder weapon was that motion picture kiss. you left me crippled, but standing. dead, but still in breaths. in love, but yet with a heart, incapable to beat like it should. this is so fucking short-sighted. we were the archetype of a working relationship. my nightmares were shoulder-grabs to get my attention. i shouldn't buckled my back towards you. now i am the fractured. my signature, a heart embraced by an 'x'. i am the cipher. my ensignia, a zero sheltered by a slash. i am the overtrusting. my trademark, the depression forced into my closet door by an able fist. so much for the heartfelt romance, baby."

and i watch the walls shake as the lack of sleep finally gets to me after three days.

and 5 bled on cursive letters from a lover too far away forge a flesh ditch into her wrist and flood it with the red

la di da doo da di la...tee hee. [05 Dec 2003|06:55am]
[ mood | these are the cigarettes... ]

you know that feeling when a certain person touches you, it sends your nervous system into a frenzy and stirs all the caterpillars from their cacoons into thier beautiful butterfly form, fluttering their wings in your stomach, softly rubbing against your stomach lining? and just the way that brim of the wing skims your the lining, it's like that person's caress coming from the inside? just holding their hand makes your heart far more than content and sometimes, is just enough to bring you out of the worst moods? the way they lay across you while you down upon you, it's like those butterflies are set free through your whole entire body? i do. i love that feeling.

ever have those dreams of a person you love dearly that in your time of incompasitation, you are with them in the way you long for in the conscience world? (you know, those dreams you want to fall back asleep and dream but no matter how hard you try, it will only be a half-conscience attempt at continuing a dream that is lost, for the time being.) then, to have that person actually that role in your life and make your dreams seem like an understatement to just how great that person makes you feel and is as the closest person to you? i have, but my life is so much better than the dreams.

have you ever just sat on your bed with that person, talking about nothing and enjoying every minute of it? and laid across that same bed, with your face towards a movie that is playing on the tv infront of you and just can't pay that much attention to the movie, because the temptation is all too seducing? but also, just walking around with them in both your favorite store, not really buying anything, but the trip never feels like it was a waste because you always leave with a smile and that person accompanying you? just passing back short-breath kisses that you do with your lips shaped like a fish's, and that there is enough to throw a smile across your face? how about when you are walking down the stairs and they grab you from behind and even though you both almost fall down the stairs each time, the smile never leaves your face? or perhaps, maybe you walk around with eachother in public, groping eachother from time to time for no reason whatsoever, but it bothers neither of you guys and it just brings a giggle to the mood? sure have. that is my life with her.



teejay to teejay interview...aww...isn't that cute.

and 2 bled on cursive letters from a lover too far away forge a flesh ditch into her wrist and flood it with the red

Greta fuck'in Garbo... [03 Dec 2003|03:32pm]
[ mood | these walls have seen... ]

garbo
You are Greta Garbo! Stunningly beautiful and
everyone loves you.


Which CLASSIC Beauty Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

and 4 bled on cursive letters from a lover too far away forge a flesh ditch into her wrist and flood it with the red

your navigating coordinances are off, your fighting chance is at the next dock [03 Dec 2003|12:43am]
[ mood | i don't know what happened... ]

your navigating coordinances are off, your fighting chance is at the next dock
"lesser infatuations felt by inferior teenyboppers and helpless virgins. woebegone lasses in a no-win situation. throw your paddles into the waters, you're up creek. let the crystal waters take you where you have a fair shake. this is where i draw the line. if you even think about setting foot upon these docks, then jehovah can be my witness to this pledge, i betroth. i'll drape your head in a plastic bag and return you to the waters you came from. my heart is not a consolation prize to be given away. this boat race was over before the whistle was at all, blown. there's no runner-up. only first place. this is for her. brand your epiphet across my heart. if love is to die for, then make sure my funeral is an open-casket ceremony. for all those who never had a chance with me to see. because i'm done for."

and this how i say, my heart is taken.

forge a flesh ditch into her wrist and flood it with the red

turtles in a half-shell...turtle power. [01 Dec 2003|07:55pm]
[ mood | your distance... ]

leo pic
You are Leonardo, the team leader and all around
good guy. You have strong morals and values
and while you are normally a very gentle, nice
person you will fight to the death to protect
those you love and what you value.


Which TMNT character are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

and 1 bled on cursive letters from a lover too far away forge a flesh ditch into her wrist and flood it with the red

wishful thinking for others unlike me [30 Nov 2003|10:50pm]
[ mood | never meant to sound like this ]

wishful thinking for others unlike me
"let’s sit back and stare at the ace high midnight sky. if i could see a falling star tonight, i would not make a wish at all. in hopes of it crossing the path of someone with dire demands to fulfill their dreams. since i live mine as i bandage your wounds, courtest of 'by when' backstabbers and heartbreakers. each day, each night, is a juncture without price. if anyone should envy another's life, they should envy mine. i just may rub a eyelash from one of your polished cheeks, but i would let it fall to the ground just like another good-bye to past memories. this is heaven. a ladybug can come ashore the decrepit skin of one of my fingertips. i could not wish for a better lover than the one i love and live my life with. i would let that noblewoman fly away and in hope, i like to think she will find a ill-fated face's nose to settle upon. let that person make a wish. just maybe the thing they sigh for will be their own. for with every kiss from you to me, the lips that create my smile work harder. you give my lungs the hopeless romatic's ideal reason to breathe. i love you, kelly mccartney."

and spare the sorrow that you seem to spill like a drunken man with his own beer.

forge a flesh ditch into her wrist and flood it with the red

unfortunate fortune, how fortunate of me [30 Nov 2003|10:15pm]
[ mood | it's only you, beautiful. ]

unfortunate fortune, how fortunate of me
"you'll meet a handsome boy. eye and hair color are irrelvant. his personality will be anything but coy. he will say something sweet, that will frame your thought in a way, that you will easily forget about me. the longer he talks, the less you will think of me. sooner than the preferred later, you have barely any memory of what you saw in me. you will begin to realize i'm not perfect, not even close to the best. around this span of breaths, you will consider running a shank into the center enclosure of my chest. you're going to start breaking promises and not giving names. but that's just fine, need not a name to hallmark this somebody, just so long as it's anybody me, you'll find yourself better off."

and settled not, for runner-up. i stabbed my way up to the first and only place.

forge a flesh ditch into her wrist and flood it with the red

take her to a hardcore show [30 Nov 2003|01:36am]
[ mood | to be the last one... ]

note to self: stafford firehouse shows are defined by one word, violence.

i went to a show to ask mikey of eebooking about some ticket design shit and what-not. well, since we are playing with dead poetic, calico system, albert react, his band, in this life, and the pits...i am designing the tickets and flyers. it seems i got myself a job at the show. i am doing ticket designer by pay for eebooking since mikey fucking digged the design of the tickets i did for the december fourteenth show. rad? yeah, got a job that i can easily do that is gonna pay pretty fucking well. anywho, ended up staying at the show and fucking grr...nothing but violence, attempts at knife fights that i and a few others had to break up. but yeah, i didn't do much to stop but screaming. "hey hey hey!" (fucking little nemo got to me at the worst moment, damnit.) but yeah, not to mention...the people i saw there...ugh. some of them made dancing nearly impossible and made enjoyment of any performance damn near unlikely. i spent the whole fucking show being depressed and pissed at the same time. fucking i wanted my angeleyes to be there. at least then, i could be the human shield to someone i fucking cared for. at least i got to sing along with TAEA and Worlds Apart. only cool part of the show. i came home tonight to find she called twice. god damnit. the show was not worth missing a phone call from her. not to mention, fucking left my cellphone at tye's...now i have no chance of finding out the number she called from. fucking shit. not a good night but atleast i got my application turned in and another job. i like responsibility, especially when it means supporting yourself and someone you care. it's nice. now all i need is my fucking license then i can be no longer an inconvienence to no one else. yeah. done. read the song in last entry. bye.

and 1 bled on cursive letters from a lover too far away forge a flesh ditch into her wrist and flood it with the red

i use pomade since hair gel flakes and irritates my scalp [30 Nov 2003|01:21am]
[ mood | because i believed in you... ]

i use pomade since hair gel flakes and irritates my scalp
"the phone rings. her tone and choice of words only prepare me for the worst. "we need to talk". right about now, i had wished i never answered the phone. my heart was at that halfway point where it's either stitch or rip. the carving somewhat resembled that cheesy cinematic eighties lightning. it was like that second delay between the friction and the searing of a match. i knew our fire was gonna go up in smoke. this was three days into the summer before the yester. fuck the mic, i know you don't want to hear me say your name. (::insert name here::) give or take, this is what has becomed of you and me. if you asked me then, i would've told you it was love. if you ask me now, i will tell you the truth."

and the world has never been known to deal out good cards. i got the ace of broken hearts.

and 5 bled on cursive letters from a lover too far away forge a flesh ditch into her wrist and flood it with the red

this is love... [29 Nov 2003|05:47am]
[ mood | and your bubblegum tongue... ]

cuddle and a kiss
cuddle and a kiss on the forehead - you like to be
close to your special someone and feel warm,
comfortable, and needed


What Sign of Affection Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

and 2 bled on cursive letters from a lover too far away forge a flesh ditch into her wrist and flood it with the red

the worst part of sharing walls [25 Nov 2003|06:41am]
[ mood | ::insert happy music here:: ]

the worst part of sharing walls
"in the motel parking lot under hundred watt lamp lights, is where they gather. the incandescence of each volt, bewitched the winged exhiles of the six-legged world. i just hope that this rain that seems to follow me, does not rupture their midnight mixer as i walk into my rented room. i throw myself onto the bed instead of another. can't help but notice the missing ceiling tiles and open-season piping and wiring as i try to make forty winks on my back. the second i close my eyes is the moment i hear her moan and their headboard thrown against our common wall. it's room eighty-four, it seems they are celebrating their love in what i assume, a horizontal form. the only thing i can find to cuddle is the surely sullied comforter that i clinch as my eyes begin to bathe in envious tears. i'm three hours away from her. this disheartening realization culls me from the mattress and onto my unsteady feet. soon to find my forehead lapidated against the opposing neighboring wall. this is where the tears finally hit the floor, and at that moment, i heard him doing the same on the other side of the deterrent. his checkmated tear-filled screams "hello?" being asked of someone who's voice i cannot hear. here is when i heard the sound of something being pulled from this wall. i can only assume it was the same thing being thrown into what sounded like, a glass object of sorts. "why won't she answer the phone!?" my tears were no further selfish and my own. i've fallen down to my knees, my face in palms. i should end this before i break into song."

and it seems we turned down forever, anyway.

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