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can't help taking your lifeThere is this hall I walk down almost every day. The walls are white-washed brick, the carpet the kind of overly busy checker pattern that is supposed to keep your eyes off of it and forward. A week ago I saw some girls had set up a little table there on behalf of the American Red Cross with a little banner saying so and that there was to be a blood drive the following Friday. I slowed down to look just long enough. “You thinking of donating blood?” asked one of the girls smiling at me from across a pile of registration forms. From the red in her cheeks I could tell she still had all her own. But, I was thinking about it, thinkcan't help taking your life
by ~alexcross
Virusby ~junglebungalo
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Devious Info
- Interests: space travel
- Favourite genre of music: sweet love for planet earth
- Favourite poet or writer: a bunch of dudes
- Tools of the Trade: THE REDUCTO ABSURDUM OF ALL HUMAN EXPERIENCE
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--
I itch & pain all over
with hate of time &
tedium Save me!
Kill me!
--
I hung on that windy tree for nine nights wounded by my own spear.
I hung to that tree, and no one knows where it is rooted.
None gave me food. None gave me drink. Into the abyss I stared
until I spied the runes. I seized them up and, howling, fell
--
So I Herd Australia Lieks Ruddkipz?
How do I get more pageviews? Answer: [link]
"IKEA - Taking over the world, one store at a time"
--
Founder of =Inked-Page | Staff for *100ThemesChallenge, *ProsePlease | Lit Critic at *devCRIT
--
As I fall, and you turn away.
You walk down corridors miles away from heart.
As I breathe, as I surrender...
I hear the sound of whispering.
you knew you were, uh-huh
well maybe you'll go and blow a gasket.
--
Two guys are driving to work when one asks the other if he talks to his wife after sex.
"Yes," replies the guy. "If I can find the phone."
hey
hey
hey
hey.
Smoek weed evryday
--
Two guys are driving to work when one asks the other if he talks to his wife after sex.
"Yes," replies the guy. "If I can find the phone."
--
I hung on that windy tree for nine nights wounded by my own spear.
I hung to that tree, and no one knows where it is rooted.
None gave me food. None gave me drink. Into the abyss I stared
until I spied the runes. I seized them up and, howling, fell
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