I’ve nothing better to do than go through and read my old journal entries.
The grass was vivid – green. Bright sticky summer colours. – http://www.livejournal.com/users/porphyre/24281.html?nc=2
a pleasure knot
dot
of the exclamation mark – http://www.livejournal.com/users/porphyre/26298.html?mode=reply
Splattering impressions like paint across the continents. … When the flesh becomes malleable, like cybernetic clay. – http://www.livejournal.com/users/porphyre/33888.html?mode=reply
I tore my eyes out, and let them fall from my face. I ate them, I, Love. Black and red flowing, they were mine and I consumed the gaze of all who looked upon me. I reigned the queen of lonliness, the ghoddess stereotype of death and longing. The western world.
Today I am cooking. Pounds of flesh boiling on the stove. I will simmer them until they are nothing. I will tear them, I will shred, I will destroy the bonds until there is nothing to tear. Then I will add cinnamon and cloves. – http://www.livejournal.com/users/porphyre/34684.html?mode=reply
on telemarketing: I feel as I’ve been hired into the legions of hell. Elenor Rigby should be our themesong. We all are witty all the damned day. If we don’t keep laughing, we die. – http://www.livejournal.com/users/porphyre/39852.html?nc=4
I do not want these possibilities
idols of neglect and love
to want to suddenly kiss this – http://www.livejournal.com/users/porphyre/54366.html?mode=reply
http://www.livejournal.com/users/porphyre/17725.html#cutid1
Melting in this basement office space, I am dreaming of lightning. Of water, drenching and wet to fall torrential from the heavens. Blue turning to black to crash and thunder down. – http://www.livejournal.com/users/porphyre/8797.html?nc=3
halos – your eyes – ringed with gold. Drowning. – http://www.livejournal.com/users/porphyre/4401.html?nc=2
Between thighs where you store old paintings and furniture nobody uses anymore. I want a chance to come back for you. – http://www.livejournal.com/users/porphyre/1838.html?mode=reply
Can’t impale like a butterfly onto a board. The steps can’t be studied, nor the movements compared to other pieces of random grace. – http://www.livejournal.com/users/porphyre/2071.html?mode=reply