running amok
through my head
this dreariness
is better of dead
nothing will change
what's past is past
one needs the ability
to swim out fast
time wasted by it
tear filled linen
emotions nonexistant
no more driven
purpose removed
soul dissipitated
crushed is the belief
i am berated
sounds and sights
cant comprehend
vulgar inferences
make me a fiend
pure is fantasy
white is unture
scratched by reality
an ink stained blue
Entry @ 9:52 PM;
Friday, July 23, 2004
