The Ultimate Vampire Resource and Directory

the lyrica takes me to a dark place these days. no more echoes of the studio and that haunting dirge of lost love carried through the early morning sunlight and into the world. it takes me to the basement now: cold and dark - where the truth is. the place i need to be. to smell the dirt floor and taste it in my breath. it coils and summons. maybe it's the just the last refuge of a heart torn between yesterday and today - my final scream in the void.

i will someday write my masterpiece, then god is going to kill me.
put me down like a dog.
its eerie.
i have roots in nothing.
i thought i did, but i was in the desert.
it was a long, seductive vision with no heft.
shifting sand that left me fixed between mountains and hollow, cavernous pits.

it seems no one does a decent thing at random anymore. the brittle silence knaws at my nerves.
everyone has their share of dutiful, fair-weather friends - none of whom they really trust.
there is no trust. there is no loyalty. there is no innocence - not even for children. the rat race has morphed into some sort of... shapeshifting beast that lovecraft himself would find as predictable as a sunrise, and as horrifying as the future that's formed among its curses.

in the end; the final, convulsive throes of an artist scribble the same sad eulogy on the crest of his sarcophagus - he who lives on hope dies of starvation.

This is better suited as a journal entry.