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crime scene?There was a chalk outline of your heart in my driveway, where my daisies used to be. There is no caution tape. I cannot help but feel uneasy; your aorta stares up at me from the blood-black asphalt every time I try to get the mail. Every ventricle is still, perfect, pristine. My heart is pumping furiously, and your goddamn vena cava is just sitting there. It makes me want to tear you to pieces. I liked the daisies better.crime scene?
by ~x3cinematic
I, too.I, too, sing America.I, too.
I am your son or daughter. I live in fear, I love in hiding. I search for rainbows, but I am forced to shed my colors
and live between phosphorescent shades of grey.
But my love is fierce. And as lips crush and bodies touch, and our limbs tangle with leaves and branches,
we are not afraid. Tomorrow,
they will love as we love. Tomorrow,
no one will dare call us sick. Tomorrow,
no one will dare tell us we are wrong.
Tomorrow,
when sinners and saints alike
by ~x3cinematic
come closer.she doesn't even know him. she doesn't even know enough to pretend. the shroud of ambiguity he so haphazardly throws over himself isn't quite opaque, but translucent enough to obscure whatever colours might appear aesthetic to her eyes. he is the artist, with charcoal eyes and only the hint of a smile. he carelessly throws her emotions onto a empty canvas, while it stares back with its alabaster-eyes and silently screams to be not left empty forever. desperation, infuriation, infatuation; and as she falls into an indistinguishable darkness (or is it merely the absence of light?) she is overcome with an overwhelming sense of longingcome closer.
by ~x3cinematic
Untitled.Cero. And baby you were never good at making promises or keeping secrets, but this means more than pretty words ever did. And you can stop talking and keep walking, but nothing's going to stop me once I've got the key. You've got my heart in your hands, blow it up and let it go, or baby, we can take it slow, see if we can learn to play this crazy game called love. I've got my hand in yours and my feet on the ground so keep your arms open and your eyes closed, and maybe we can forget this mess, run away and hope for the best. You can hold me and smile, and I'll laugh a little while your eyes reflect the sunset and we can pretend we're soUntitled.
by ~x3cinematic
Favourites
DrivewayWe write our names on brick walls and on the sides of bus stations so they might go somewhere and we wait for someone to remember us.Driveway
We turn on the radio to listen to this guy who was famous by the time he was fourteen My friend thinks he’s sexy and closes her eyes in the back of my mother’s car when she hears his voice But he makes me step out of myself like he’s a lesson in how to be better and all I can do is listen. I try to leave fingerprints on my hands
He is singing about being left behind but you can’t be abandoned if
by ~cynicalxpoet
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Devious Info
- Favourite movie: good will hunting.
- Favourite band or musician: elliott smith.
- Favourite genre of music: whatever.
- Favourite artist: warhol.
- Favourite poet or writer: ee cummings.
- MP3 player of choice: ipod.
- AIM: x3 cinematic
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