My world is a place of high self demise
Made from the deepest soils to bury your dreams in, never to see them again
I worship the night, lightless and lifeless, without sound or soul
Because alone I feel the most at home
All my future is as dark as the next person's; as murky as they come
Because I am scared to fall into anything deeper than the hole I create for myself
Bland as a slate, but screaming like a child
I speak when spoken to, I feel like this is what I sometimes do
But even then, it's within context; inside the box
Even though I know that I am capable of so much more
Though, the only trust I keep is with a piece of paper or the portal's screen
Where I can spill what's in that hole, whatever's buried in the soil, anything that's lurking in the dark
The feelings that I'm scared of, the side that I'm afraid to show when it's light
This is my world, the mind that works within me and that I know to be true
So tell me how to change it and rearrange it, so that I can live like you.
Niloo Farahzadeh
Friday, March 18, 2011
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
The desperate need to go to Vancouver and find Jacob Hogard.
Ode to Jacob Hogard
You were hot before, but now you are the essence of man itself. I don't know who's decision it was for you to grow a beard and wear a beannie, but I applaud them. That person should be calling the shots from now on. And it's not the fact that you have a beard. It's that you look fucking good in it! You know what else you'd look good in?
My bed.
You were hot before, but now you are the essence of man itself. I don't know who's decision it was for you to grow a beard and wear a beannie, but I applaud them. That person should be calling the shots from now on. And it's not the fact that you have a beard. It's that you look fucking good in it! You know what else you'd look good in?
My bed.
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