centreofeternity.blogspot.com
Immortal Echoes: July 2008
http://centreofeternity.blogspot.com/2008_07_01_archive.html
Playing this echo game of Thought and Imagination and finding solace only in the Silence between. There is White, and there is Black. then there is Grey. There are souls who exist as empty shells. Confined to the misery of living hells. There are those who are dead, but yet walk freely;. A hollow soul in a living body. Then there are those who doubt their way. Who stand not tall, but gently sway. Whose soul yet thrives on the magic of life. Who dare not succumb to the continuous strife;. But I do.).
centreofeternity.blogspot.com
Immortal Echoes: Hydrophiliac
http://centreofeternity.blogspot.com/2010/03/hydrophiliac.html
Playing this echo game of Thought and Imagination and finding solace only in the Silence between. I can dissolve in water. Immerse me into my self pity. Watch me bubble and fizz. Breaking apart from myself. You can't see me anywhere. Blending into my fears and nightmares. Easy to ignore; Impossible to walk through. You can't see me, but I'm still here. I can read your mind. I see the pain in your eyes. And the ignorance of mine; purposefully. I can hear you heightning yourself inside. Look who is crying.
centreofeternity.blogspot.com
Immortal Echoes: June 2008
http://centreofeternity.blogspot.com/2008_06_01_archive.html
Playing this echo game of Thought and Imagination and finding solace only in the Silence between. So here's an update for all who were waitin.This is another piece of creative writing I dug up a while ago.it's somewhat bitter, but wrapped up in a nice big bow. Embracing the purest form. Of bliss; the virginal perfection. The game that ends in laughter. And begins never, as it has always been. The light enhancing bright eyes. Accustomed to the joyful glint. And weeping tears of pearls. Are precise; perfect.
centreofeternity.blogspot.com
Immortal Echoes: April 2009
http://centreofeternity.blogspot.com/2009_04_01_archive.html
Playing this echo game of Thought and Imagination and finding solace only in the Silence between. Very abstract.or not. you decide. An octave of sound. And a climax never beginning. For the end of purity, or the impression of. Cutting corners in the circle of light. Sensing a presence; Blinding. Learning to dance, hauntingly beautiful. To the music of your death. Attempting to grasp unattainable words. Inuendos touched upon, then discarded. Or was it all just a dream. Once the curtain has droppped.
centreofeternity.blogspot.com
Immortal Echoes: November 2008
http://centreofeternity.blogspot.com/2008_11_01_archive.html
Playing this echo game of Thought and Imagination and finding solace only in the Silence between. On nights like these, the rich people holed themselves up in expensive furs, taxi drivers turned up the heat, and the city heaved sighs of frost and smog. The homeless people, wadded up in a corner, huddle together for a chance to remember what it felt like to be safe. They were the city's underlings, and they were loved as such. Not at all. In the park beside the bridge, they girls were found. Children ...
centreofeternity.blogspot.com
Immortal Echoes: February 2009
http://centreofeternity.blogspot.com/2009_02_01_archive.html
Playing this echo game of Thought and Imagination and finding solace only in the Silence between. I hate the dreams that are so intense that they haunt you the next day. It kills me. The dream land, stark in contrast. Fills the mind with wondering and wandering. Pictures of a lost world. Gained by closing eyes. And opening the mind. To what might have become true. Reality bites, doll). The character grows in story time. And the eyes follow you regardless. Playing follow the leader can be dangerous. Pictu...
centreofeternity.blogspot.com
Immortal Echoes: August 2008
http://centreofeternity.blogspot.com/2008_08_01_archive.html
Playing this echo game of Thought and Imagination and finding solace only in the Silence between. I think we are all beautiful on the outside - be it male or female - its only on the inside that we get ugly. Learns her lovers well. Sunsets with a dash of childhood regret. Deep like a tunnel, dark like her eyes. Born with wholes waiting to be filled; fulfilled, thrilled. Born with elixirs, and mixers. Soft tissue orgasm. Baby. Cunt. Waiting. Sunday, August 10, 2008. Subscribe to: Posts (Atom).
centreofeternity.blogspot.com
Immortal Echoes: June 2009
http://centreofeternity.blogspot.com/2009_06_01_archive.html
Playing this echo game of Thought and Imagination and finding solace only in the Silence between. To Fall is not to fail, but. Pieces of yourself leading the way back. To the place once known as home. Now burned with your starry glare of demons. Searching for the answer folded up inside. Torn apart (pieced together with a child's purple glue stick). You ate those once. Ah, and it was only mere child's play. And yet you lost yourself to the brevity of it all. And longed for more, the mirage of becomingness.
centreofeternity.blogspot.com
Immortal Echoes: December 2008
http://centreofeternity.blogspot.com/2008_12_01_archive.html
Playing this echo game of Thought and Imagination and finding solace only in the Silence between. It remains in yesterday, and I can't go back. Bleed the throat with singing. To compensate for bottled up. To dry up the pain of regret. Because nothing else takes away. The bitter memory of a kiss. That tastes of the façade. And feels like death. You look like death, they said). The white lies grow. And you do a line, compensating;. For what can be told, other than. A sweet whispering foretold tale? You thi...
centreofeternity.blogspot.com
Immortal Echoes: December 2009
http://centreofeternity.blogspot.com/2009_12_01_archive.html
Playing this echo game of Thought and Imagination and finding solace only in the Silence between. I hate it when mentally challenged people get ridiculed. Don't EVER hate them because they're different. They deserve love just as much as you do. The seed of conceiving went bad. And the rotten fruit of your loins. Turned into something beautiful. The masses scorn the ability to be normal. So scream back that there is no such thing. Walk with your head held high. And look at her. Meant to please them. Soul ...
