robots.
Joylife is good.
the end.
Newest
my own murderer...i can't see myself. this image isn't mine. reflection of a ghost: the apparition of mymy own murderer...
hollow sanity.
when did i decide to engender my own demise? an infection i welcomed in; a sickness of cognition, the death of my discipline.
tell me my ethics, the accumulated structure my being laced together is locked away from my steel and that the key is obtainable.
show me my future is a child of my idolized past fallen not far from the tree and no longer choking by my self inflicted harm.
dare i hope to t
by ~Brophy
::our::(our)::our::
ban the man's hate. crayola out the crud that's mucked up
fucked up and utterly yucked up the yawp of a yo-yo.
do your dandy deed. hip hop in the street smile in sink
pop a pretty link between your heart and a balloon.
scribble out the mess. they keep moonin' the masses white cheeks
free sneaks kiss it and keep walking.
ah, hell no. i ain't laying in your box jaded, fakin' super candy coat cakin' the world's waitin' for me.
damn this static buzz. lock it out, lies
by ~Brophy
drifter of dreamsDrifter of Dreamsdrifter of dreams
A hint of glitter drifted down
A figure stirred in the sea of silk waves,
Yawning, he rippled, capturing the anxious mist; Beyond those eyes were blue anxiousness. Lay there, slumber, and wait.
Watch the dolphins ride the seaside of space As the stars dip down to cast a sugary silence; He shall lay there, dream, and wait. A light fresh breeze of lavender Breathes a swirl of shimmer onto the floor,
Shiny, flat marble is cold never again. The scent of fairy dust It lingers in the lazy warmth. She shall skim the milky high
by ~Brophy
pity on the kingPity on the Kingpity on the king
Poor King: You sat up high, you held untouched; Everything had gleamed and glistened.
Poor thing: Your gold stood tall, and silver sat strong; Everything rang when listened.
Sad King: Goblets gulped full, platters played plenty; Everything swelled well-fed.
Sad thing: Robes were rubied, gauntlets were gold; Everything had colour it bled.
Cry King: Stables stood supple, gardens grew green; Everything a small tip-touch.
Cry thing: Maidens made waiting, &nbs
by ~Brophy
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