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[14 Jan 2008|11:09pm] |
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Ew this thing is old.
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[07 Nov 2005|05:51pm] |
( my only sunshine )
i have no arms with which to hold you, yet i carry no heavier a burden.
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[16 Oct 2005|07:21pm] |
Well I think you should all envy me because I got to spend the day in a 12 million dollar house, and I took an amazing amount of pictures. We only got to go on the 1st floor, which was bullshit, but we were there for a babyshower. Just to give you an idea of how insane this house is, it costs $8000 a month to heat/cool the house--and that's bare minimum warmth or cold.
( and now for five million pictures of this beautiful, beautiful house )
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[17 Jan 2005|03:47pm] |
Again.
I knew it was a dreamworld the second I stepped into it, drifted along; but hardly cared. Fighting it was futile, and a fight I’d rather forfeit, at that.
I crunched through the snow. Familiarity flooded me, mingling with that same painful nostalgia that lodged itself in my throat. I had never been here before, consciously or not, but it stabbed at me nonetheless.
Walking distracted from the inevitable.
So I walked.
Mindless trudging through the snow. I felt like a mechanical man, my limps stiff and my joints slow to respond to my will. My breath was a fog that clouded my vision and blurred the flurries in the frozen air, chilling in my chest. The soft, warm fabric of my scarf slid across my cheek as it was blown over my shoulder in the wind.
I pulled my jacket tighter.
Shh, the trees whispered, their dead branches rustling and rasping. Shh.
I glanced over my shoulder and stopped, staring into the forest. It was dark, and shadows danced as the clouds swept past the moons. My breath was the only timekeeper here; inhalations and exhalations marking the seconds as time ticked by. I lost track - not that I kept it in the first place - and an eternity passed in my gaze.
I CAN’T WRITE BECAUSE I SUCK.
more later. if i'm not stupid. why are these so hard to write all of a sudden?
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[10 Jan 2005|09:05pm] |
Benjamin was a crook. The dirtiest scum this side of the galaxy had to offer, and he made no effort to hide it. Not that he boasted about it; no, Benjamin was no braggart. He handled everything with either a flashy smile or a snap of the trigger. In his mind, there was no need to make anything more complicated than this simple rule of thumb, and he enforced it with deadly severity. His crewmates admired and respected him; his enemies detested him for their fear; and his betters? There were none. No one had ever pulled a stunt on Benjamin Axis Baskerville and lived to tell about it—-at least, not by mouth. One of Benjamin’s many trademark punishments for betrayal was a cut out tongue or cut off fingers, neither of which was done without other miscellaneous torture tactics.
He was one hell of a marksman, despite being blind in his right eye—-the result of one battle scar too many. His aim was near flawless, and his precision was beyond deadly. Hand-to-hand combat with this fucker would undoubtedly leave you wishing you had been sent to the guillotine instead, for that would be a far more humane death, and quite a bit cleaner, to boot.
Perhaps one of Benjamin’s most recognizable habits would be that of his cigarette addiction—-that is, if ‘addiction’ could barely scratch the surface of describing his obsessive smoking enslavement. The man could easily go through five to ten packs a day, if offered. We can only speculate just how he manages to elude the authorities without pausing for a breather and a hacking cough every few steps.
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[27 Oct 2004|03:59pm] |
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( Defeat )
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claustrophobian's journal