A place that no one looks at....FUCKCUNTSHITBASTARDMOTHERFUCKER!
Why, in the name of all the gods that could feasibly exist in any fucking realm you choose, do I even bloody bother?
The Mile.The mile is long, the mile is hard, the mile is pastel green. The mile is full of prisoners, the awful sounds of screams. I walk this mile every day, I look 'em in the eye. The bells are tolling brothers, it's time for you to die. When the clock strikes twelve, we'll throw the switch and crank up the juice, It's either that or, brother, you'll be swinging from the noose. Don't take it personal son, it's my job to flick that switch. I know dying's hard, but life's one hell of a bitch. You spend your days incarcerated, you spend your nights awake. I spend my time listening, to the terrible sThe Mile.
ME.Poetry 101You are a monolith, a zenith, to which I must ascend You are, through all the lies, the only trusted friend. Do I dare to climb the mountain, not knowing what awaits? Over the hill, through the valley, behind those iron gates. The illusion of danger in my mind, keeps me from the truth. Love is an unwieldy thing, particularly in the youth. Young I am, in both frame and in my mind. Yet the aging of my soul, is of a different kind. It speaks not of time, nor the tumbling of the sands It is locked within myself, far from reach of hands. To deny the feeling altogether, would be the end ofPoetry 101
What Do You Want?"Where am I" he asked himself. On any average day this would seem like a fairly simple question, but in this cold, dark room there was no such thing as a simple question. "How long have I been here" was his second question, but it was no good...he couldn't remember, and the dark was offering no answers. He heard something in the distance that sounded like it could have been a door opening and then something that resembled footsteps on a wet tiled floor. Whatever it was it was definately getting closer. "Who's that!?" he shouted into the black. The response was somewhere between a schoolgirl's giggle and metal running tWhat Do You Want?
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from boondock saints:
Rocco: Fuckin'- What the fuckin'. Fuck. Who the fuck fucked this fucking... How did you two fucking fucks...
[shouts]
Rocco: Fuck!
Connor: Well, that certainly illustrates the diversity of the word.
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from boondock saints:
Rocco: Fuckin'- What the fuckin'. Fuck. Who the fuck fucked this fucking... How did you two fucking fucks...
[shouts]
Rocco: Fuck!
Connor: Well, that certainly illustrates the diversity of the word.
--
Well, what you plan and what takes place ain't ever exactly been similar...
Comment vas-tu?
I am stealing wi-fi. Or 'wiffy'.
C'est trés froid ici
x
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OMG NINTENDO 64!
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