wild tempo changes, strange beats, I like it

Some people are meant to stay in this planet, some are called by higher beings to explore the unknown; none but us knew how bad things really where. The mere fact you chose the dark, easy way out should be enough evidence that everyone failed, specially your so called "psychiatrists" with degrees in professional lying and wallpaper gazing, even me.
Sorry, from the bottom of my heart.
I still find life precious, so don't expect me to follow your lead, nor do you dare think that I would, for a second, waste myself for the likes of you. I do not want this, but I believe that it will be for the best if I just move on now instead of mourning you for another year.
Don't really know what else to say.
Other than I still can't believe you are gone.

Can't Believe You Are Gone

Formerly existing as Self-Destructive Behaviour and Amisitagnus. A big thanks to miss M, I still miss you (heh); a big FUCK YOU to mister C, which stands for CUNT.

A Statement:
"LO!
A collection of bad poetry, grief and boredom!
In this noHr's name,
whose conscience was thrown away,
and now sits atop the throne that fades!
Wherein writting becomes
half-baked tomes
that sound the trumpets of failure!
And bones tame what comes from gore!
And whatever rhymes with -dom!
OL?"

Don't follow me.

Comments

Jim Lynch

Weekend by the sea

No Mates Ensemble

Moth

Moth

Jesús Bellota

malinson