AnimenT

Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely and well preserved. For when the moment arrives when you draw your last breath, any unused merits become obsolete, defunct and utterly useless. Rather, Death should be a crash landing, a defiant skid into your final resting place where you lie torn; worn, yet utterly fulfilled. A final destination to which you can arrive in comfort, and lay your head with pride, a place where your final thoughts were: Damn what a ride.

Sieze the day lads, because before you know it time will lay this generation to waste, gone like a candle in the wind, like a cold dark sunset on which the curtains closed too soon. sieze the day because ultimately, worm fodder are we all.

I’m tired of thinking of our past, present, and what’s to come. Our problems loom; like the elephant's in the room. And they are leaving me no space to breath. Slowly I understand the futility of my efforts; she’s with another now, my love tossed aside.   ENOUGH. NO MORE. I turn my back on the crowded situation with renewed resolve. I get as far as the door when I remember her smile... That smile, that damned deceptive smile... Its beauty shakes and shatters my newfound resolve, and cuts me open where I stand. My soul shaken and shamed: allowing my true feelings to seep from the wound. The pain and anger repulses

Elizabeth Brawler had a great big mauler                 to settle her queries of time                                 but when Elizabeth Brawler lost her mauler                                                 she settled for a life of crime

Highschool, Truth: A place where the loud speak less And the quiet say more

For every great photograph your back is turned, to a better one.

We are the Architects of our social cells We are warden to those who are free We are neighbors to the inmates, Family to those outside. Colleagues with the guards and friends with the deputy We are the architects of our own social cells

        A gift is warm cup of coffee waiting for you when you get home                A shower and a bed, when you feel almost dead.        A gift is the craft of a parent                A new born baby making its way into life.        A gift is the touch of a loved one, swaying in your mind                or a sweet love note which you find.        A gift is a kiss under mistletoe                A present under the tree.        That is..                What a gift means to me.

In the woods where not even the bravest find shelter Where the wicked do not go and the damned shan't enter Where flowers do not bloom, and death does not wither where forsaken is at home, and darkness doesn't condone In the woods Where the birds do not sore It is the terratory of the light... no more