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Monday, March 22nd, 2004
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11:36 pm
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i dont know where im going with my livejournal. i may take to her to ever flowing tides of missourah. or maybe to the alps of nova scotia. if anybody wants a dripping poonan, please come to me. im sadder than e. a. poe with a case of the mondays.
current mood:  quixotic
current music: your shark ate my baby- the skinned alive
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| Sunday, March 21st, 2004
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1:02 am
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i feel as accepted as dmx is in the acting circles of d.u.m.b.o.
current mood:  thirsty
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| Saturday, March 20th, 2004
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12:55 am
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i feel as accepted as a koran in missippi
current mood: flirty
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| Wednesday, March 17th, 2004
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4:41 pm
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my reaction of the "pox" (passion of the christ) cus its a lot like a filthy virus.
why can't passion come from the well-balanced soul? passion is the force pushing toward the balance and evelopes us in a muse wind, but brings forth no happiness. the henry chinaski is to passion as reality is to cahrles bukowski, but the character is still a drunk. in happiness, the artful soul craves passion, and in sorrow, it seeps and goes. we feel it in fragments, but our fear to connect, steering away from self-absorbtion's stigma. self-absorbtion is on the balance with honesty, but society's stigma (secretly) is much greater towards her. honesty creates the borders of man's trials. her wings engulf us in beauty, though the pressure she creates. and in our fright of the Angel Honesty, we stop dead in our tracks, each one preceeding the last with more and more of an essence of he scent. the earth is the source of our honesty. human's find earth's mountain rangers, her faults, and her grass plains as astonishing as the gubernatorial system of california. this comes from man's inability to push up a mountainous path, man to cut down with a scythe of honest unto the plain of greatness. to propose anything less than society's editing of her responses to "asl?" would be presumptuous. but defining the rawest of virtues is down right gross anyway. i amaze my self in the self conflict that arises on the honesty that comes from my heart. i am a sorrowful boy and passion runs with kenyan speed through my adrenals. if our blindnes should be rewarded, there is a tribunal developing between man versus humself, his passionate soul, and the Angel of Honesty. Man created his conflict, he experienced the passion, and witnessed the angel. our creations amaze us less than any vista. let our soul's creation come through with an unseen balance.
cunt in the box: where i get my food.
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| Tuesday, March 16th, 2004
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11:53 pm
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cumsluts are the way
the eagles suck my tight pussy
u wanna cyber?
my haiku for the day
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11:49 pm
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every cliche i can dish in 16 seconds:
im crying inside
im dying inside
something about toenails
this wekk, i plan to go on a diet
everyone hates me boo hoo
everyone loves me
heres what i did today
there was this hot guy at cinnibon
the anti-flag show was kickin!
i spent the weekend with my friend from hawaii (not true)
every cliche i can dish inn 16 seconds
values: you can never not be one here on a livejournal. fuck me, fuck me harder than chess with a computer is.
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exexfatemochick's journal