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Hardstyle4Life

April Love
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Title Unknown so far. 2


    I no longer felt pain. I was soaring, an intrepid adventurer into life's' unknown. Don't fuck with me, my mind was shouting gleefully. I felt the smile on my face, reaching up and touched the corners of my lips softly. Slowly laying down on the old carpet, stretching my limbs out as the small amount of blood clotted on my arm. 
    I dont know how much time passed. Perhaps none. Perhaps hours. Finally I sat up, my craving for cancer overpowering my need to stay still. As i lit the smoke, I decided on starting to walk back to my own house. It was safe at this hour, nobody was awake, and wont be for a wile. 
    Interacting with people didnt need to be an option, so I mustered all my will and got to my feet. I struggled to untie the rubber tubing, tugged my sleeve down, capped the needle and stuffing it all back into my kit. My eyes were well adjusted to the darkness by now and the small light from the cherry helped as I slowly made my way back to my window to make my escape. 
    I managed to maneuver myself out the window, successfully not getting caught on any of the remaining glass shards that clung for dear life on the window seal and awkwardly put the wooden boards back in place. I pushed my burgundy hair out of my face and started on my venture to get home, the effect of the opiates starting to die down by now. Pulling the last drag from the butt, I inhaling deep and smiling at the familiar burn it gave me as the smoke slithered down into my lungs. 
    The street light's familiar buzz was the only sound that broke the comforting silence of the night, the mist had somehow grown thicker and I could hardly see down the street. I flicked my cigarette butt into the middle of the street and shoved my hands into my pockets as my brain began to wander.
I romanticize and dwell on all past events. So that I never fell the difference of the cold or warmth. Simple content impassiveness. Acting on mental impulse of what I think I should do, never sure. And it has destroyed me. I try and escape it but I am about to be lost from myself dwindling further from the light of others, finding small nostalgia in solitary. I think that before too long, I will only desire seclusion. Until Death decides that my flirting should be taken to the next level and I draw my last strained breath.
    Even if it kills me tonight, I will be ready to die. And thats one of the scariest feelings I have ever experienced in my life, is when you realize you aren't afraid to die. You dont look when you cross the road anymore. When you'd take pills, you take however many come out. You're not afraid when you hear those creepy, creaking noises in your house anymore, because you hope they'll get you. You seen out dangerous things because you want to die. You stop caring about yourself, totally and completely. Nothing about you matters anymore, and at some point you look at yourself and become scared of yourself. Because you're a Monster, one who only hurts itself. And thats scary
    As my train of thought derails, I noticed Im out front my house and walking up the driveway. I slip my hands out of my pockets and made sure my kit was safely back in its hidden compartment in my over sized jean jacket that rocked various patches I had collected over the years. I take a deep breath, flew the cheap wooden screen back, and quietly opened the front door.
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Title Unknown so far.

 
Madness is just the emergency exit. You can just step aside and close the door on all those dreadful things that happened. You can lock them away.. Forever. 
1:18 am
My mind wanders unable to focus, my sense of reality drifts in and out. Delusions engulf my head; unable to separate the truth from the lies, I am shortly convinced that I am fine.  
Feet scuff the pavement as I walked down the long foggy street, the only light I could make out was from a buzzing street lamp a block away. I sighed and pulled out my pack, lighting an unnecessary cigarette, the nicotine not quite soothing the craving that was gnawing at the back of my brain stem. 
It was all Poison. Thats what people called it, but I didnt heed their pointless opinion. They do not know what its like to live in poetry; to them there  was no bliss.. only self righteous anger.
I took another drag, attempting to hush it for a little wile longer; I was almost there. 
The long road that was covered in mist made the hair on the back of my neck stand on edge like an electric current had run though my body. It felt like en empty stair, a harsh lingering glare. 
I walked on, final coming up on the old grey Miller Home, it was a two story abandoned house with boarded windows and shingles hanging off the roof. I flick my cigarette butt into the sidewalk gutter and make a sharp right slipping between a few broken fence posts. My black Doc Martin boots trudging though the overgrown yard, that sported 2 feet tall weeds and the dead hangman's tree. I speed up my pace as I walked closer to the large house.
The Miller Home was a nice house back in the 50's with light blue color and beautiful garden was signature in the neighborhood. It had a white picket fence and trim that lined windows and doors. It had belonged to the town doctor when the city was not quite as developed. He ended up going mad from either abuse and set his whole house on fire, burning his family and himself to death. It had gotten fixed up but nobody ever bought the house so it sits on its little hill, boarded up and forgotten. 
I made my way up to the back of the house. I had lived in the neighborhood my whole life. There was a good 10 block radius that I knew like the back of my hand. It comes in handy sometimes, at least I think so as I quietly take off the lose boards that hang on the broken window that leads to the study on the bottom floor. Successfully making my way though the window and into the pitch black house, I grab my lighter from my jacket pocket, flicking it to light my way. 
Quickly making my way though the few empty hallways, the wooden floors creak as I make my way into the living room and plant my bum on the soft shag carpet. I have been in this house more then I can count, its so familiar to me, Im not scared of it like alot of people are. The old pealing wall paper was of faded flowers and showing the dry wall behind it, a few holes adorned the wall as well that may or may not be from me. There are rumors that it is haunted but I just dont care. 
I took out my kit from the pocket on the inside of my jacket. My heart rate sped up as my anticipation for the junk made itself more vivid, and my train of thought spun at a millions miles an hour. All they thought of it was Poison, it was my release. What my heart craved and what oh, so, polity quiets my raging mind. 
I rolled up my jacket sleeve, exposing the pale skin and making the countless scars seem more prominent against the dark contrast of the pitch black. Wrapping the tourniquet dutifully around my arm and took a deep breath, trying to calm my speeding rapidly beating heart. 
I grit my teeth and stuck the needle into my waiting vein, closing my eyes as I willfully inject myself with their so called Poison, a warm sensation sped though the course of my capillary system.
Euphoria. Delirium. The seventh heaven that my whole life's meaning is to chase. Reason has disappeared; madness has taken its place as my mind got thrown into the raging chaos. Give me noise, give me thunder, give me proof this poetry was real.  
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I am a mistake

1 min read

I am become I, destroyer of the self, repeater of mistakes 

I am failure, I am destruction, I am doom,

I am all that will befall my own,

I am my enemy

I am death

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Dreams, dont really have good intentions. At least not as far as im concerned anymore, they're random, spotty, and often misjudged. I personalty havent had a good dream in a wile, Sometimes i dream about death, or the crash, or when im really lucky i dream about you. And dont get me wrong, those arent good dreams. In general they are heart breaking, soul crushing, and hope stealing. But i would have a million nightmares along those lines just to be able to be in a arms length distance from you. Even if its only subconsciously. 
You are my Vampire King, my Pumpkin King, my Knight, Il Mio Amore, Mia Cara and you are so far away. I dont know if the world will push us in a direction towards one another but i seriously hope so. Because you could be The One, and it would be a tragedy worse then death, car wrecks, and all manner of things that break your heart if we didnt get the chance to at least try.
The world has taken both of us, chewed us up, spit us out, and stomped on us for good measure. You promised you would chip away your broken pieces to fill up my cracks, and i promised i would always hold you so tight that you would never fall apart, and for some reason that makes me feel like we might just belong together. Ive never been one to believe in true love, and soul mates. But if anyone could be my soul mate, i feel like it could be you. 
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i have this scar that rests on my back. 
It is from a almost death experience, but it holds more meaning to me then just that.
A guy asked me to take a shower with him once a few months after the incision was healed up. i asked if we could keep the light off, and he asked my "why"
"insecurities" i replied. 
"about what?" 
"of you seeing me the way i see myself" 
he turned me around and forced me to look the the mirror. Beautiful is what he said, broken is what i saw. But i never asked him to understand that.
The scar is like a reminder of how many times my heart got ripped out from behind in those few months of healing. 
I didn't expect it, but then again, who does?
You go on with life, heartbreak after heartbreak. The world taking a little piece of your soul every time, a little piece if innocents and happiness. 
It leaves you this void of mixed emotions that can never be solved,
You bandage yourself up and keep going, but for what?
For the people who love you? yeah right.. if they loved you, they would never hurt you. 
We all learn the sad truth sooner or later; everyone hurts you. 
Sometimes i take that pain i feel from that, and hug it tight because more often then sometimes; thats the only emotion that i can handle. 

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Featured

Title Unknown so far. 2 by Hardstyle4Life, journal

Title Unknown so far. by Hardstyle4Life, journal

I am a mistake by Hardstyle4Life, journal

love letter that you'll never read. by Hardstyle4Life, journal

more often then sometimes. by Hardstyle4Life, journal