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Ye, the venom-beaten shades of darkness that hung from his poppy-tinted pupils were expanding as he coughed wafers of smoke into the mist of the Friday night, but does he actually care?
Do I actually care?
My head drums the agony of it all through my bloated veins, as we stumble. Stumble on. Light headed as helium balloons. Many versions of the velvet heavens intersect to create and artistic blur of shallow colour. That man over there isn’t actually walking his dog.
They just don’t exactly take a liking to our behaviour.
I never did like the way those primroses were arranged in that window. And now my bones shake. Vibrations of a cruel nature agitate until I cry with confusion.
But it feels so good. So free. I am free.
The broad, red guy never does walk. He just stands there, digesting the folded envelopes that are laid before him.
Spiders!
Please! I don’t enjoy these hallucinations of a crimson nature. Eating isn’t that important, so long as the oozing butter that melts upon a crumpet like humid ice isn’t put to waste. But then again, why is my pillow gushed with fluid in the early hours?
Don’t cry afterward. Just don’t.
All that organ-churning concentration that engulfs my beating heart. Why?
But, I can’t,
So authentic. I can escape.
Shivering,
…
So cold,
…
Check my eyelids please,
…
…
I cannot bear to look at the life-wishing shades of darkness that hang from his eyelids as I sit upon this park bench. But I know tomorrow night, it won’t even matter.
Do I actually care?
My head drums the agony of it all through my bloated veins, as we stumble. Stumble on. Light headed as helium balloons. Many versions of the velvet heavens intersect to create and artistic blur of shallow colour. That man over there isn’t actually walking his dog.
They just don’t exactly take a liking to our behaviour.
I never did like the way those primroses were arranged in that window. And now my bones shake. Vibrations of a cruel nature agitate until I cry with confusion.
But it feels so good. So free. I am free.
The broad, red guy never does walk. He just stands there, digesting the folded envelopes that are laid before him.
Spiders!
Please! I don’t enjoy these hallucinations of a crimson nature. Eating isn’t that important, so long as the oozing butter that melts upon a crumpet like humid ice isn’t put to waste. But then again, why is my pillow gushed with fluid in the early hours?
Don’t cry afterward. Just don’t.
All that organ-churning concentration that engulfs my beating heart. Why?
But, I can’t,
So authentic. I can escape.
Shivering,
…
So cold,
…
Check my eyelids please,
…
…
I cannot bear to look at the life-wishing shades of darkness that hang from his eyelids as I sit upon this park bench. But I know tomorrow night, it won’t even matter.
Some fantastic turns of phrase there ... more of a snap-shot than a story, but still good.
I think 'imaginative' is an appropriate word to use here.
YOU GOTH
also:
ahahHAHAQHqHahahahahahHAHAhahHAHAHhaahAhahaaaaaja
GOTH.
also:
ahahHAHAQHqHahahahahahHAHAhahHAHAHhaahAhahaaaaaja
GOTH.
I think you said it best yourself:
"..."
"..."
Ye, the venom-beaten shades of darkness that hung from his poppy-tinted pupils were expanding as he coughed wafers of smoke into the mist of the Friday night, but does he actually care?
Do I actually care?
My head drums the agony of it all through my bloated veins, as we stumble. Stumble on. Light headed as helium balloons. Many versions of the velvet heavens intersect to create and artistic blur of shallow colour. That man over there isn’t actually walking his dog.
They just don’t exactly take a liking to our behaviour.
I never did like the way those primroses were arranged in that window. And now my bones shake. Vibrations of a cruel nature agitate until I cry with confusion.
But it feels so good. So free. I am free.
The broad, red guy never does walk. He just stands there, digesting the folded envelopes that are laid before him.
Spiders!
Please! I don’t enjoy these hallucinations of a crimson nature. Eating isn’t that important, so long as the oozing butter that melts upon a crumpet like humid ice isn’t put to waste. But then again, why is my pillow gushed with fluid in the early hours?
Don’t cry afterward. Just don’t.
All that organ-churning concentration that engulfs my beating heart. Why?
But, I can’t,
So authentic. I can escape.
Shivering,
…
So cold,
…
Check my eyelids please,
…
…
I cannot bear to look at the life-wishing shades of darkness that hang from his eyelids as I sit upon this park bench. But I know tomorrow night, it won’t even matter.
Do I actually care?
My head drums the agony of it all through my bloated veins, as we stumble. Stumble on. Light headed as helium balloons. Many versions of the velvet heavens intersect to create and artistic blur of shallow colour. That man over there isn’t actually walking his dog.
They just don’t exactly take a liking to our behaviour.
I never did like the way those primroses were arranged in that window. And now my bones shake. Vibrations of a cruel nature agitate until I cry with confusion.
But it feels so good. So free. I am free.
The broad, red guy never does walk. He just stands there, digesting the folded envelopes that are laid before him.
Spiders!
Please! I don’t enjoy these hallucinations of a crimson nature. Eating isn’t that important, so long as the oozing butter that melts upon a crumpet like humid ice isn’t put to waste. But then again, why is my pillow gushed with fluid in the early hours?
Don’t cry afterward. Just don’t.
All that organ-churning concentration that engulfs my beating heart. Why?
But, I can’t,
So authentic. I can escape.
Shivering,
…
So cold,
…
Check my eyelids please,
…
…
I cannot bear to look at the life-wishing shades of darkness that hang from his eyelids as I sit upon this park bench. But I know tomorrow night, it won’t even matter.