now_grasping_at_straws_of_cynicism magenta on my lens Death and fire everywhere. So it would seem if I didn't cast a wry yet humourless gaze over this wolrd I've created in my head. Glints of beauty used to appear around, left and centre, but now, only pockets of grey, small fixations. The colour is leaving the world. They all said it would happen, but I never knew how horrible it would be. I'll keep fighting for my naivety inch by wonderous inch. 021111 ... kerry my mother called me cynical and jaded last night. she meant it as an insult but i smiled and turned away from her, thinking it is better to be cynical and jaded than hiding behind some thin screen of hope that all the bullshit people throw at you won't make it to your ears. 021111 ... limanne it is all bitterness. 021111 ... PeeT holy christ. i listened to you spew your physical abuse around the log_burning_fire as if each statement was a script of the play your father and you performed every day in the garden. what is it? we try to define who we are, writing long diatribes with chalk on sidewalks while lightning fills the sky. he is your step son. he hugs you. he punches you. he films you with his eyes. we burn fires. we shoot 30.6 at beer cans and empty bottles of some kind of anti-depressant. 120624 what's it to you? who go blather from