I am an adult.
I have a bankcard and a libido.
I have a sense of humor and deep thoughts.
I keep track of my money and use my turning signals.
I drink coffee and hold my breath if someone needs to hug me.
I am an adult.
I have a plan and a back up.
I press my clothes and shop for groceries.
I compare and contrast, and forbid what feels good.
I don't talk about death unless I absolutely, positively have to.
Hello, My name is Merideth,
And I get to wear a crown.
I wear it when we're eating,
Or when we go into town.
My daddy's name is Eerik,
And he happens to be the king.
He wears his crown to bed at night,
It's a very funny thing.
My mommy's name is Lauren,
But Daddy calls her Lou.
She trades her crown with mine sometimes.
That makes me giggle, too.
Mommy and Daddy play 'Opera',
Where they sing at each other real loud,
I tried to join them once and sing,
But I was not allowed.
Daddy calls me 'Deth' for short,
Mommy calls me "Someday, Someday..."
She whispers a bit afterwards,
It sounds a lot like when she prays.
Daddy doesn't
I'm lying in bed and I'm thinking in 'ifs'.
It's funny how we make decisions. Big ones, little ones. Lucky charms this morning. Major in English the next four years.
If I had kissed him, how different might things be now? At the time I was being good. At the time I was being faithful.
Only to negate the latter at a later date. Figures.
Sometimes I feel bad. Sometimes I wonder if I had overreacted. I didn't. Three years. Of waiting. Of changed plans. Of almost. Of excuses.
So I'm lying in bed and I'm thinking in 'ifs'.
It's a form of regret, you know, questioning the past. Questioning your actions, your motives. The most you can do is le
I'm lying in bed and I'm thinking in 'ifs'.
It's funny how we make decisions. Big ones, little ones. Lucky charms this morning. Major in English the next four years.
If I had kissed him, how different might things be now? At the time I was being good. At the time I was being faithful.
Only to negate the latter at a later date. Figures.
Sometimes I feel bad. Sometimes I wonder if I had overreacted. I didn't. Three years. Of waiting. Of changed plans. Of almost. Of excuses.
So I'm lying in bed and I'm thinking in 'ifs'.
It's a form of regret, you know, questioning the past. Questioning your actions, your motives. The most you can do is le
I'm of a rare new breed
We'll be the first to be perfect
I am the great Oz
It's us and the world at large
One round-trip and good, solid nap
Make us what we used to be
Of trial and error, of artless matrimony
You're impatient and this is tedious work
A firm hand and two firmer
Make this all the better
And this time around
We'll be the first to be perfect
Consider Yourself American by self-induced, literature
Literature
Consider Yourself American
"I Pledge Allegiance to the flag of the United States of America and to the Republic for which it stands, one Nation under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all."
We are taught this pledge to the American flag in, or around the time of Kindergarten. Five- and six- year olds state their loyalties to a country they know nothing about every day. It isn't their fault, though; it's lack of education. It's neither the teachers', nor the guardians' fault, either - it's rather difficult to sit a kindergartener down and explain to them the economic, military, ethical, civil, and federal aspects of our country. Yet it is required, by law
nasty hands,
do what you have to.
this will last you
'til the end of the week.
resort to plan b,
I saw it first.
don't fix what still works,
for now ignore the leak.
nasty hands
bring back the tool,
help us break the rule,
help us break them all.
hot, nasty hands,
get under the sheets,
need your body heat
like a porcelain doll.
Sucking on one of my mom's marlboro menthols, I sit at this man-made lake, which is cluttered with man-made trash, while I'm surrounded by Grade-A natural man-trash. They converse loudly, far away from me. In fact, the distance between them and myself is swelling with each exhale
I've sat here before, with him. We watched two mallards, one male, one female. They were obviously mates. They floated around so in tune with each other, speaking lightly in their little duck-language.
He told me of how whenever he feels beleaguered by life's tribulations, he comes to consoling little venues such as this, to relent. He said,
"No matter how m
What to create,
and what to destroy?
The power of Goddess
my great little toy.
My strange little fetish,
they all call it insane.
Not only I fantasize
this world up in flames.
I\'ll promote the distaster
and watch it go on.
Then, when I feel like it,
I\'ll call upon the dawn.
Yes, the Sun will come up,
Virtuous, glaring object.
But it won\'t save religion
From my fun little project.
Let me ask this,
would this be a sin,
Or only a desire
to which I\'ve given in?
But I\'m sure I\'m the only one,
The idea isn\'t that far fetched.
Your mind even sees
This notion being met.
Week-old Vomit and Age-Old Sin by self-induced, literature
Literature
Week-old Vomit and Age-Old Sin
The VCR's blinking twelve.
I believe that time,
You might as well….
One blind's turned back,
Discolor creeps in.
Week-old vomit
And age-old sin.
Dead syringes stab the floor.
I step on one
And bleed once more…
I'm horribly pale
But I've got a dark enough mind to compensate
For every inch of this bone-white boundary.
Then I look down and the split ends
And the weakened
Structure in which I function.
But that's
alright
with me.
Clearly you don't have the mentality…
Nearly you escape reality…
I'll keep trying to let it go,
But it creeps, under my skin it goes.
Testing minimum and maximum,
The graves, and the people passing them.
Inhale, feel it burn the holes inside.
Exhale, push your principles aside.
You don't seem to understand.
But just stare as long as you can.
You're lucky to witness this breakdown.
Ignore the painful piercing sound.
I\'m sorry, my blood.
My dear, cheated blood.
I\'ve torn you from your home,
When all you wanted
was to stay.
Then I\'ve kept you in a prison,
where you\'ve droned on
night and day.
I\'ve forced you to labor,
just to keep my hearth alive.
And I\'ve drove you to
abandon my asylum,
just to die.
Yet still you drift through me,
Contently and cold.
My veins somewhat withered,
and blistered,
yet bold.
I thank you, my blood,
My so forsaken blood.
I\'m sorry, cheated blood.
My battered, helpless blood.
beatmealive burymetodeath by self-induced, literature
Literature
beatmealive burymetodeath
watchmestareatmepointandmockandlaughatmeorjusttalkandwalkpastme
i want him
to be here
to see me
beat me alive/
i want me
to be there
to see him
beat me alive/
i beg him
to help me
please help me
bury me to death/
he begs me
to stop it
just stop it
bury me to death/
i love him
and i need him
to make me
make me realize-
he\'s all i
ever had
and all i
all i
ever
will
have
my diary! its all- html! wooohooo, thanks to amanda, my diary is all neat-o, i still wanna try to do more to it though....
okay, the fourth of july, we pick up scott from his sister\'s, he comes home with us, we go to his old neighborhood to watch fireworks (awesome), then he spends the night. He woke me up at 6 in the morning because he had this horrible dream, so i just layed with him in the livingroom and never fell back asleep. He was supposed to go home, so i felt bad, because ya know i didnt want him to leave yet, but i was kinda tired so we got into s0me petty argument over whether we go watch my brother bowl for his league, and the h
my diary! its all- html! wooohooo, thanks to amanda, my diary is all neat-o, i still wanna try to do more to it though....
okay, the fourth of july, we pick up scott from his sister\'s, he comes home with us, we go to his old neighborhood to watch fireworks (awesome), then he spends the night. He woke me up at 6 in the morning because he had this horrible dream, so i just layed with him in the livingroom and never fell back asleep. He was supposed to go home, so i felt bad, because ya know i didnt want him to leave yet, but i was kinda tired so we got into s0me petty argument over whether we go watch my brother bowl for his league, and the h
I'm waiting for you to arrive;
My passion is starting to revive.
Hypnotized by our front door,
I don't think that I can wait anymore.
Anxiousness is breaking in,
And my patience is wearing a gypsy's grin.
When are you gonna be home?
I am restless here when I'm all alone.
So, the moment you're through that door,
I'm gonna pounce and tackle you to the floor,
And kiss your angel face,
So you know you're home in the perfect place.
And later, somewhere in the hall,
I'm gonna randomly grind you against the wall,
And wrap myself up in you;
Pressing close enough to make one from two.
My heart is beating way too fast.
There's not eno
Hello, My name is Merideth,
And I get to wear a crown.
I wear it when we're eating,
Or when we go into town.
My daddy's name is Eerik,
And he happens to be the king.
He wears his crown to bed at night,
It's a very funny thing.
My mommy's name is Lauren,
But Daddy calls her Lou.
She trades her crown with mine sometimes.
That makes me giggle, too.
Mommy and Daddy play 'Opera',
Where they sing at each other real loud,
I tried to join them once and sing,
But I was not allowed.
Daddy calls me 'Deth' for short,
Mommy calls me "Someday, Someday..."
She whispers a bit afterwards,
It sounds a lot like when she prays.
Daddy doesn't
Current Residence: boynton Favourite genre of music: ska Favourite photographer: or that Personal Quote: "I spent a year holding your hand and my breath; I'm ready for a change."
But don't expect much more of me. Just letting you know there's something new to enjoy and hate and drive you crazy trying to remember who the fuck I am.
I was recently proposed a project from the wonderfu; mister ~lennycroaker , and I in turn am proposing that he do something with my ID. The piano picture. Make it your own, do something with it that'll surprise me. If you wish, of course.
Let me know!
Lou
PS - Or, make a whole new one. I don't know what you'd have to work with, seeing as I don't have much in the ways of photos on here, but I figure I'd give the artist his options.