SCYTHORZ :) 
Obsessed| weeee an identity is me |
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RestlessRestlessRestless
Christophile Carima's bleary eyes opened to the sight of the swaying ceiling boards of the vessel Santa Maria. The creaking of the drifting ship permeated the room, and the drone filled his mind. In his fevered and sleep deprived mind his mind began the arduous task of rising to consciousness. In a room nearby someone coughed, followed by pained profanities. This is the destiny of the doomed ship, he thought, as memories filled gaps in his mind. From dreams or reality he couldn't tell. Floating forever across the empty green-blue ocean, doomed to never sink, and never fly before the wind. &
by ~Lufarianor
First Order of Chaos(shhh)First Order of Chaos
Whisper, To me. Quietly, Closer.
Your good intentions, to close to me, Your friendly eyes, mocking my greed.
I see, freedom. Good Lord don’t take away our pain.
Dreaming… When we see past the veil. Our eyes, are burning…
Thread is, raveling. Needles sow the next lines.
My senses, Are erasing. The world is gone and we’re alone. How it was all along.
When were we ever real? The Tv is too bright for me to see… When will all be revealed, And t
by ~Lufarianor
Burn Your MatchesSave your matches for the fire, And give nothing back. Take the strong and burn their minds, With the scream of your empty soul.Burn Your Matches
Finest minds sing straightest glory, Bruises on their heads and bandaids on their eyes. We race arcing through the night, Your shackled arms and crippled legs collapsing as you go.
Who says the gravity is no lie? How can their thoughts keep you from the sky? When you’re cast adrift, Told the shivers at the touch, The beatings in your chest, Are just a dream and that your fine, Then burn your matches in their mind,
by ~Lufarianor
Kenders and TypewritersThe point of expanding on ideas with droning sentences that would serve to explain to others my personal train of thought escapes me, but I’ll try my best…Kenders and Typewriters
The point is, I’m kind of bored in here… The flamboyant delights of the post-mortal realm seem to consist, for me at least, of a typewriter and some paper. I think you should know I’m here because of a mix-up in section twelve, so Bill, if you’d get those sons of bitches for me I’d be very grateful. If you win anything give it to Y.K.W.
So then, down to business. This place is quite dank for a writing room. Oh well. Let the cats
by ~Lufarianor
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Devious Info
- Current Residence: Exstetential (?)
- Interests: Reading, Writing, Imagining
- Favourite band or musician: ETF/WT/Academy is
- Favourite genre of music: Post-hardcore and Symphonic Goth (looked it up :p)
- Favourite poet or writer: Hickman
- Favourite style of art: poetry
- Wallpaper of choice: The cool ones
- Skin of choice: black/grey/white
- Favourite cartoon character: eeek cartoons ewwwww
- Personal Quote: Thy feet are in my soup...
- Tools of the Trade: Pen, paper, keyboard.
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blah.
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What's this mysterious ticking noise?
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blah.
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What's this mysterious ticking noise?
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blah.
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What's this mysterious ticking noise?
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What's this mysterious ticking noise?
I'm not a creepy stalker. D:<
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I really am invisibul gaiz!
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What's this mysterious ticking noise?
I'll be waiting. :>
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I really am invisibul gaiz!
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