March 2011
31 posts
Boris.
Movies about new york, intricate love triangles, and personal struggles always point out the potential frailty of it all- how the woman who sleeps by your side one night can, in a swift passing of time, be sharing a bottle of wine and making love to another the next- happily, remorselessly, as if this is what she was truly meant for all along. A seemingly pleasant marriage with no prospect of an...
Existential crisis
Number 6651469832132
You have heard it a thousand times, but it still manages to break me down every. single. time. what exactly are we, you, and I doing? why does this world continue to be such a constant disappointment and a pool of lepers that loves to swim in their own grime without ever asking if maybe somewhere there are clearer waters that smell of pine where the air is fresh and not...
The Dillinger Escape Plan - Horse Hunter
An old demon returns to drape my eyes in red.
“I have a really awesome idea for your 19th birthday present”, Katherine tells me.
Then I realize that I’m turning 19, that I’m old, and that my adolescence has gone by so incredibly fast. Depresh.
If I’ve ever,
just for a split second in transit,
to be ravaged by talons of the present.
Men of passion are not fit for society, they are meant for war. Passion is the reason for sovereignty because when it guides us, it cannot guarantee stability. Out of man’s own fears, they give up their passions and aspirations for safety. Today is nothing but a massive contract of submission made out of our own rejection of passion for the sake of a mere prospect.
Everyone gets their filth ration.
Everyone smells the rot.
w h o w a s t h a t ?
w h o c o u l d i t h a v e b e e n ?
-
Concrete seas of dehumanization where faded porcelain is the northern star.
Modern ruin.
Apparently I got scholarships to study in Germany and France… and I was never told about them because of the legal implications involved. I guess they (they = mes parents) didn’t want my hopes to get shattered?
At least it’s nice to know I was a good student once.
Idus Martii.
Since I was sixteen, the month of March has followed a trend where everything ceases to matter and passion becomes my only guide… or wait, that just might be my life in general…
These days of the year more than anything, though. It must have something to do with the way the wind blows.
I'm having like... an end of my teen years crisis....
No puedo creer que llore tanto por ti y sólo tenemos una semana sin vernos. Si un día decides dejarme, no sé lo que voy a hacer.
There is nothing. Vacant and drained. Desolate. Infertile. There is nothing here but filth. Crawling on the ground, the walls, between the cracks. Like waking from a dream to a rotting reality. A reality that is putrid with the stench of human frailty, where scorn, fear and misunderstanding tear apart everything that belongs together.
Slaughter of the soul.
I’m sorry, but I can’t.
Lost in frozen time a love like crime uncovered, still able to kill the world has curves and longing swerves.
Watch“Untitled” because she couldn’t come up with one. I don’t advocate smoking.
Terra Noctunus.
The flight back here seemed eternal. México City is huge. You never appreciate it until you’re flying over it. I forgot what it feels like without you on my mind. I don’t want to know. I haven’t cried this hard since I was about sixteen years old. Only two more months and I’ll be home again; home is your grace. The rain won’t stop pouring. The lights won’t come...
Terra Solaris.
I want your eyes to be a permanent part of my skin.
