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refridgerator of blood

diary

Name:
thats my fault too
Birthdate:
14 May
External Services:
  • spotlight__lies@livejournal.com
  • airbrush 5th st

WE CANT BE QUIET.
but we can show faith
in art and in radios

i hate selfish wires, orange dimmed lightbulbs, cds without a proper case, breathing in other humans, heaters that smell like burnt toast, slightly bent out of place paperclips, tv shows with no end or meaning, movies that are too long, changing positions so much that youve done every movement ever possible, trying to reach a certain time of doing a specific excersize, magazine covers that don't contrast, factories with such high smokestacks that it gets you upset, red dirt.

all of us, can hate.
but can all of us.
LOVE ♥
i can love
as much as anyone else
possibly a great deal more

BECAUSE I, JACK CHASE look
for it.. for love that is.
IN DISTANT and odd places
under the influence of baileys whiskey.
is where i find myself as being me.
a hardcore image
with a butterfly filling
or, as this journal prooves
a hopeless romantic...

but im different and unique
just as much as anyone else
possibly, a great deal more.
ive been gifted. in the sense that i
have been given the second chance
to fall in love, with him.
(XENO 6.27.o3)
ive been given a gift from who knows
from god, i think not.
from gods or goddesses, as far as i know
all that i have been taught, is not true.
ive been given a gift from myself
because i need a hero and we all need a hero.
i have a hero just like everyone else
possibly, great deal more of a hero.
possibly my everything
the only human-being who could make this world
look a little less UGLY.
every morning, as i wake up to business and noise
i can just hear his charming voice
and nothing really matters anymore.
hes the only thing worth living for.
the only reason i fight this.
i couldnt ask for a better hero.
hes perfect
possibly a great deal more.

DISCLAIMER:
this journal can make you
or, as ive been told, break you.
it just depends how you look at it.
because as humans we choose
what feelings we decide on expressing.
love for my poetry, hate,
or absolutely nothing at all.
but im asking for you all to open your mind.
all my opinions, thoughts, and ideas.
they're worth paying attention to.
if you choose to do so.
give it a chance, or hope.
possibly a great deal more.
it might just have an impact on you.
or, as ive been told,
possibly
A GREAT DEAL MORE.
dear connor oberst,
dear sylvia plath, dear pablo neruda,
dear mr cummings, mr thoreau,
mr shakespeare,
dear ts eliot, dear langston hughes,
dear shel silverstein,
dear charles bukowski,
dear wilde, dear goethe,
dear dylan thomas,
dear m. breton, dear lovelace,
dear dickinson,
dear markowicz, dear spenser,
dear whitman, dear pope,
dear words, dear poets,
dear writers,
you made me love poetry.
and
for that
i will never forgive you.


THE END.

I LOVE:



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