

Down The Haunted RoadIt is July 5th, nighttime. I am walking down Cuba Road in Long Grove, Illinois, the large canopy of elm leaves enveloping me, blocking out the brilliant night sky the moon is full and what threadbare light pierces the trees illuminates my path. They say there are ghosts on this road, and I do not believe them, because I live here and I have never seen a ghost in my life. I do not believe in ghosts. I do, however, see a deer; it does not look up at me. I am the ghost that haunts these roads, and this deer haunts these roads, and we know each other well. It leaps into the forest as I pass, and I continue walking down Cuba Road. &nbDown The Haunted Road


Not Too Long AgoWhen I was young I would never, ever cry It was a promise I had made to myself blinded by naivety I did not understand the way the world worked But I made this promise, and I kept itNot Too Long Ago
And then she broke my heart.
Always or a girl; not too long ago, I had sworn I would never cry again. I had learned my lesson. Touch hedgehog, get stabbed. Cut to little pieces.
Not too long ago I was in love. And I swore I would not hurt her and she would not hurt me. And I cursed and hated myself because it was all lies. Those were halcyon days, lookin


EntropyTurn, clock, turn, and with each moment start your decay anew! Tick down the harrowing seconds, show the world what it is losing! Let the winds pull the hourglass grains and howling scour the earth's soft flesh! I care not for what once was, what your ponderous chords revealed as false. Tear down this accursed memory! Of a young girl who once smiled at me and of the false promise the future swore to me, drawn inexorably into your pale grasp. When all is cold and barren and gone, when the pendulum's movement finally ceases, maybe then this rage will subside. &nEntropy


Cathedral GhostsHallowed halls and hollow holes wondering which reflects the soul or mirrors thoughts that go so low to see them is to know the truth without which fact can find no proof and hang the holy in their noose of twine and rope gone loose and slack to balance the weight upon their back of corridors which they once roamed searching for the long lost tome that read to them their memories of long lost places that echo still and still the echoes in the mind seeking that which is divineCathedral Ghosts
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~Squee215 is the Bret to my Jemaine. <3
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Hallowed halls and hollow holes, wondering which reflects the soul
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-justinrandall.com-
[link]
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Finish what you start.
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Stupidity got us into this, why can't it get us out?
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LOOK, I'M A SIGNATURE!
Hurr. I'm so witty.
-Detail Fanatic-
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