if you alter masks every time fame circus approaches

2108____plastik @ 2004-07-18T14:31:00

2004-07-18T21:38:07Z

i've noticed a few things lately. well for one my inability to express myself on these things lately has got my mind sort of stagnated. it sucks. i'm alot less confused than i have been for the last five or six months(+).. also, i've noticed that the absence of pot in the later hours where i'm going to go to bed results in insomnia. it's either that or i just pass out without realizing it. and as this rant seems to have no structure anyways, a few more things like feelings. motherfucker.

2108____plastik @ 2004-07-10T15:29:00

2004-07-10T22:30:18Z

such is the belief
disenchanted
her eyes
were closed

mother nature holds grudges
negative, but,
still ringing in my ears
angels building homes
the crisis of over worked
tenacity

she would not cope

carries a relationship
with her mirror

riding this day
to it's untimely death
not a drop to sustain
the poisons
are vigilant enough
to withstand my hands

follow me
to where futility stands

pause
collect
persist

love is a demon
that destroys you
ridiculously, enough
breath of stale air
producing lullabys
wrapped in calamity
and smothered
by consistancy

do we rise with the sun?
or the sun with us?

2108____plastik @ 2004-07-09T11:30:00

2004-07-09T18:30:59Z

get away
the pregnant day
gives birth
to a truth
only she knew
and only
she could see

lyricism produces liars
collisions imminant in ware
cut from the same cloth
as the rain drenching us

broken up
bruised critically
if i ask

wasted deliverance
contemporary devotion
if i told you
not to hold my hand
would the disease
we call love
stop?

pace yourself,
dear.

tin can skeleton

2004-07-02T18:56:23Z

wake me up
with shotgun morality
birthday wishes strewn
across the floor
like shattered glass
your heart skips a beat
over my own
and it bring
an almost deafening sound

that was not
her mother's wishes

stood radiant
astouding cold glances
but still powerful enough
to tip the world
out of place

claw
at the paint
capture
the remains

i would stand still
on hilltops
to breathe radiance
in her eyes

believe me...

2108____plastik @ 2004-07-01T14:07:00

2004-07-01T21:13:18Z

i've never done shit with my life. no job. no diploma[yet. shit on me.] no, that's bullshit. i'm eighteen, that's still, young enough not to care. er, when are we old enough to have to care? i've drawn millions of pictures, only some of which in galleries. i've been in countless bands, tho none recorded or played. i've got a catalog of a billion words written, tho, none of it published. i've worked my ass off for those things. so, i guess i've done SOMETHING, just the going SOMEWHERE is what i sort of lack at the moment.

it's like, lighting a really short fuse and running as fast away from the explosion as possible, but somehow once the match struck and it was held to that wick, it blew up in your face. i guess that's how my passions work.

get the fuck off my back, like whoa!

but with all the things i've "accomplished" i've made a few people smile. so, is that worth enough? or am i just bitching again?

o, my lord. what have i gotten myself into?

2004-07-01T18:50:31Z

07:
beached upon a corroding shore,
stranded in a land diseased by reason.
shelling out dollar bills, paying for your treason.
in the psyche of a demoted officer,
mother earth has lost all respect for rotten activists.
shoveling doubtful inventions into the fire
of a ship going mostly nowhere.
it's always beside the point
in matter of fact conversations,
and sometiles i'd build me a shell to fall in love with.
unfathomable discretion elevated.
proving to be a worthy hunter,
she shot down serenity and claimed her prize.
needless to say, they made her chief.
but she would carry you still across hell barefoot
and a furcoat on her back to show you true divinity
marked by the scornful proud.
her eyes were still green like emerald rebirth,
and satyrical still in the form of meaning.
the sky has dissapeared beneath your feet,
and fleeing behind the sun to shut out the darkness.
day seven, he kicked up his feet to proclaim a project finished,
and loved his consistant grasp of nocturnal torment.
he laughed to himself, and went to bed.

01:
today we bend spoons,
for words that resemble train wrecks
fill my dusty subconscious.
your fictitious role is nothing short of amazing,
in ever changing concerns.
distraught by off-key father figures,
twisted were the revolutionaries we had constructed,
resisting nothing in particular,
but drawn out by past rhetoric,
in misinformed manners.
she was unsure of her shallow reincarnation
of a glamorous Christ,
and the neon colored recreation of his words.
a reinactment we had reread to our children,
for their sake alone we resolve
the plague of dizzying realism.
nourishing the ways of starry-eyed disbelief,
standing between shock and awe,
to a form of boundless resemblance,
a mental avalanche of sorts,
recuperating from portable thought processes.
and giving way to a more constructive creator,
who builds shivering guiltless monuments
to befriend criticisms wealthy consumer welfare,
here and abroad. we smile between takes,
but they kept the camera rolling for our wilted glance
composed our expressions unwittingly.
and we demanded cutthroat enthusiasm.
but, our roles were set before us,
the basis for our heartwarming display of confusion and love.
far beyond heavenly rites,
consuming the stars to shine eternally,
but driven out by your presence.
replaced with a ravenous deity of famished distinction,
both horrid and absurd

2108____plastik @ 2004-06-29T15:52:00

2004-06-29T22:52:51Z

hello, folks.