she's broken
This is a tumblelog, kinda like a blog but with short-form, mixed-media posts with stuff I like. Scroll down a bit to start reading, or a bit more to read more about me.
woods, alcohol, kisses, narcotic, candles, runaways, hallucinogen, hide and seek, nicotine, empty sex, fear, dance, love make us weak.
painting love on people.
skin.
silence.
you dont know me at all…and you never will
Land of make believe and it don’t believe in me land of make believe and I don’t believe and I don’t care!
The best parts of the best music forever.
I’m the son of rage and loveThe Jesus of Suburbia From the bible of “none of the above” On a steady diet of Soda pop and Ritalin No one ever died for my sins in hell As far as I can tell at least the ones I got away with
And there’s nothing wrong with me This is how I’m supposed to be In a land of make believe Who don’t believe in me….
It says “home is where your heart is” But what a shame Cause everyone’s heart Doesn’t beat the same It’s beating out of time.
Everyone is so full of shit Born and raised by hypocrites Hearts recycled but never saved From the cradle to the graveWe are the kids of war and peaceFrom Anaheim to the Middle East We are the stories and disciples of The Jesus of suburbia.
Dearly beloved, are you listening? I can’t remember a word that you were saying Are we demented? Or am I disturbed? The space that’s in between insane and insecure.
Oh therapy, can you please fill the void? Am I retarded? Or am I just overjoyed? Nobody’s perfect and I stand accused For lack of a better word and that’s my best excuse.
To live, and not to breathe Is to die, in tragedy To run, to run away to find what to believe And I leave behind this hurricane of fucking lies I lost my faith to this, this town that don’t exist
