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March 2011
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Jen [userpic]
Your own personal.........purgatory

While reading The Portable Henry Rollins, I've come to find that he is as fucked up as I am. I like it. It makes me want him even more. His journal entries are filled with rage, lonliness and depression. My heart is heavy, and my brain is black. I'm tired of whining about the shit in my head, the one person who understands me and the shit in my head is gone. God I'm fucking tired. I want nothing more than an end, but I don't know what I want to end. I'm cold. I'm losing my grasp of words. Words are my life. I'm rambling. Apathy is my friend. A couple of pieces from Henry Rollins that touched me deeply:

Some things are too embarrassing
I could never tell you
I could never tell anyone
How much I think about you
How it scares me
Every morning as insomnia's grip loosens
I stare at your picture
I think of your painful shyness
Your ravaged self-opinion
Your incredbile beauty
How drawn I am to you
--------Henry Rollins, from the book See a Grown Man Cry

You are the reason I don't want to die
When I am with you life is worth living
Time away from you is strange and full of pain
When I look into your eyes
I can see how life has savaged you
It's ok if you fall
I will be there to catch you
Anyone who would want to hurt you
Would have to kill me to do it
I will never be able to pound words into lines
To match the velocity of your presence
-----------Henry Rollins, from the book See a Grown Man Cry

Take my hand
Come into this dark room
Get down on the floor with me
Let's get slain
Lick the sweat
Taste the blood
Hear the sound
For once
For real
I need something real from you
I want you so bad
I want to taste you
I need to feel your teeth in my flesh
----------Henry Rollins, from the book One From None

Current Mood: apatheticapathetic
Current Music: none I'm watching the Simpsons