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WearyWearily to this waking world I cling Hark, for me the angels no longer sing Or perhaps to them I've just grown deaf? Consumed and filled by dark thoughts of deathWeary
As I slip slowly from waking to sleeping Now I hear them softly weeping Sadly singing through my dreams But even now they fade it seems
As i look around I see old faces Once were clear, now only traces Lovers, friends, and even bitter enemies Now all drift as faint inobscurities
And now the past I am lamenting With a worrisome madness fermenting I heave my last great sigh... &nbs
by ~Psychotic-Overdose
Eight DaysEight long days Horrendous lamenting anguish Confusion sadness and hate Within these dark thoughts i languish but... my dark feelings have begun to abate Happiness contentment and joy... Somethings wrong with me Cant stop laughing... no! so this is their ploy I understand everything, I'll never be happy Eight unending daysEight Days
by ~Psychotic-Overdose
Locked Chained and BarredLocked and chained and Barred Within this place I lay battered and scarred I stare out the window and shed a lone tear Locked within this miserable place of fearLocked Chained and Barred
Everything here is bright and nice Cleverly disguising its crushing vice Slowly dying inside of me My will to live, to be free
Why I ask, I begged for years... Sadly my crys fell on your deaf ears Now I am whithered and dead Filling me with continual dread...
I stand alone, pockmarked and disgraced.
by ~Psychotic-Overdose
Slumber: Chapter 2The city of Chicago lay eerily silent. In the geographic center, a monument had been constructed. This monument was an elegant fountain, adorned in ancient looking runes. However, what poured from its high, gaunt founts was not water. No, the liquid flowing through it was darker, more sinister. Thick and black with hints of dark red, the consistency of tar. What filled the fountain was the blood of the corrupt. Isaac found himself on Main Street, and his legs moved of their own willing, inexorably drawn to the fountain. His mechanical movements kicking up dry, ancient gravel. As he drew closer, the vague outlines of the fountain gave way, becSlumber: Chapter 2
by ~Psychotic-Overdose
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Devious Info
- Current Residence: Someplace between here and hell
- Interests: Cats, Computers, Writing, Hanging out, Fine art (especially poetry), Videogames
- Favourite movie: V for Vendetta, Matrix
- Favourite band or musician: Avenged Sevenfold, Metallica, System of a Down
- Favourite genre of music: Metal
- Favourite artist: Not sure
- Favourite poet or writer: Stephen King, Poe, Vonnegut
- Favourite photographer: Greg
- Favourite style of art: Horror
- Operating System: Windows XP
- MP3 player of choice: dont have one
- Shell of choice: Not really sure what this means?
- Wallpaper of choice: Stylized Mewtwo (im a hopeless SSBM nerd)
- Skin of choice: The one i was born with
- Favourite game: Super Smash brothers melee, Final Fantasy X
- Favourite gaming platform: PS2
- Favourite cartoon character: Kimbley, Wrath, and Edward
- Personal Quote: The worst scenario is likely reality
- Tools of the Trade: Pencil and Keyboard
- Email: notanotherproxy@hotmail.com
- AIM: DairyOverdose
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