If there is any justice in this world, the traitors who murdered my comrades in arms will follow them soon. And my fellow soldiers will find the peace in the next world they were denied in this one.


in respondeowatching dawn through the window, my head full of the scratch of pen on paper, bringing back memories and wishes drifting through my thoughts like ash on autumn's wind. recursive writing, playing with words and time like legos. it has been miles and what seems like centuries since I saw you last. But you are still like dragons on the winds of the morning to me full of fire and contrary grace.in respondeo
I will take your hands whisper words to you, of a song neither one of us really remember, watching lights down below, glittering like shattered glass. summer's daughter and winter's son.


I will meet you in the middlewatching dawn through the window, my head full of the scratch of pen on paper, bringing back memories and wishes drifting through my thoughts like ash on autumn's wind. recursive writing, playing with words and time like legos. it has been miles and what seems like centuries since I saw you last. But you are still like dragons on the winds of the morning to me full of fire and contrary grace.I will meet you in the middle
I will take your hands whisper words to you, of a song neither one of us really remember, watching lights down below, glittering like shattered glass. summer's daughter and winter's son.


title too long, see belowI havent slept, not really, in a week. I feel wrinkled on the inside. Ive had insomnia, to a lesser or greater degree since I can remember. Its rarely been this bad or led to these sorts of lessons. Because insomnia does teach you things. Ive learned that you can smoke and shower at the same time; you dont even have to be all that careful. That metaphorical scar tissue, unlike the real thing, is full of nerve endings, and instead of sensation, they lead to emotion. Usually anger. Ive learned that what is offered wont betitle too long, see below


untitled 1june09Twenty three steps, twenty four miles of black top, distances too great to cross now. Twice you left, one running, the second to never return. Pain and fear meeting confusion. I'm lost now, and not sure I want to find my way back. When do you reach that point, where you realize you want to be untouchable? Not in the sense of elevation, but that you no longer want the sensation. Not the hugs and kisses on the cheek of friends, or the idle caress of lovers, but in fact want you want is nothing at all, a move past even numbness. To not feel, pleasure or pain. I can rememberuntitled 1june09


Lock Picks and RocksWe broke into the old apartment to look for things we'd lost when moving on and moving out, across the streetLock Picks and Rocks
and sixteen cities South. I tried to take the poems from the windows but memories are more permanent than marker. Mornings seemed longer when sunrise wrote words on bare walls and bare skin, or when I traced end-rhymes and metaphors into the curve
of your hips.
These days we don't sleep.
and I couldn't find them; instead
we found furniture that spelled apathy
and wrong words on right angles, organized
and dead. They painted over &nbs
by ~lwhitecrow
by `tigaer
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When there\'s nothing left to burn, you have to set yourself on fire!
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[link]
"I like pretty things..."
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"I have a life, I just don't visit it often." - =HellionAngel
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A joke is a very serious thing.
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Website : rachelquerrien.com
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