

Burn Holes In My SweaterFalse Visage Marked by unheard hands Hollow voices Broken by an unseen noise This is my life And the time that seeps through Is in a literal sort of limbo Guarded by my prosperity via strife Wasting the empty Racing the void Kissed by beautiful terrorists Of an empty time in my life When everything was ruled By the lowest link in the chain But when everything let go My leader fell And no one wanted to pick them back up We broke the patterns With something that we used to do Forced the change By doing absolutely nothing  Burn Holes In My Sweater


Art isArt is your arms sprawled across the bed in sleep.Art is
Art is the way you true the blade of my knife.
Art is a flower, bending to the will of the wind.
Art is the way the light dances in your eyes.
Art is self-destruction.
Art is the way you feel when no one else is around.
Art is the lack of.
Art is the way you move your hips.
Art is cerial.
Art is an empty glass, and a full heart.
Art is exquisite human suffering.
Art is the way I make love to you.
Art is the lack of having something to lack
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throw more dots, more dots.
I took this new free iQ quiz my friend showed me. you should check it out. just CLICK HERE TO TAKE THE FREE IQ TEST
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This comment is protected by the Dark Side
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Do you dream of electric sheep?
i hope i can enjoy you whit my artwork
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When leaves should fall to dust...
And, yes, we have sociology together... If the picture doesn't ring a bell, I was sitting with Drea in the cafeteria when you brought the German test to her.
(If it helps, my real name is Allyson, not Karl)
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