watchful i
i am the night watchmen; the guardian of every grave,
the keeper of the crypt for the souls we could not save.
it appears an enchanting slumber, a quiet and soothing-sleep,
but the agony of this resting place tis’ the secret i’m forced to keep.
This place welcomes no beating hearts,
it will be no jubilant affair -
it’s butchered souls,
and lifeless eyes,
unsettled minds; such utter despair.
Each night i tread this laden ground, with flashlight and ring of keys,
the air my only tell; its scent of sour death in every breeze.
10:57 pm • 16 December 2009
i was five and he was six we rode on horses made of sticks
he wore black and i wore white, he would always win the fight.
bang bang. my baby shot me down.
12:48 am • 15 December 2009
I'm going to write a book.
seriously. im still not sure what i want to do with my life so i figure i’d write a book to help get me started financially. as interesting as an autobiography would be, i’m going to write a book about a kid in high school thats a drug dealer.
ideas for the title?
11:22 pm • 14 December 2009
tambourineguy:
I got home from work went in the bathroom and Max left me a note :)
GET THE PLANT! lol
11:19 pm • 14 December 2009
