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""I rather be dead then cool""
On January 01, 2010 MonicaTheGreat


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Laredo, Texas
Joined: Jun 2009

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Age: 28
Gender: F
Location: Laredo
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MonicaTheGreat
TFS Journal


Public entry Sadistic Static
November 20, 2009 @ 04:08:19 pm
ahh got to get this small short writing of my head, and it's raining..again, ah well...

people hate rain, they just do. they say, "rain means
depression" and turns them into a sadistic bastard. but
they're the same people who complain about they're
surroundings. how they hate all this s*** that surrounds,
everything,the falling buildings, the pollution, the bastard
mugging old ladies at the f***ing park. all this hate
created a new vision, because they don't see that rain is
god giving gift that blurs the place they always say s***
about. like a old television that doesn't get well
reception. the world is the television and the rain is the
static sound and view that makes you feel lonely because
even if you complain, you still rather live in this dump
then have to create something completely on your own. like
your own perfect sadistic s***. but it's yours, and for a
while you will make it perfect. and everyone else will see that the moment when you think your piece of crap is perfect.
But you won't cause' your to busy sitting on your lazy ass
and complaining about the bad weather outside. you know what's worse? that i'm right their with you. i complain about you complaining and i'm to busy to ask god to but the antenna up to get rid of the static view. f*** it pass the remote and change the channel.
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Public entry release anger
October 06, 2009 @ 09:38:21 pm
errrrrrrrrr!! so f***ing mad right now instead of grabbing the f***ing knife i'm on this s*** again. i won't kill you cause i know she will never forgive me. and what's worse than everyone viewing my like that, the way i really am. i take so many s*** from you while my day drags and i see you on the end of the road. it's been a million and two now that i have ignore your tactics and insults. how long do you think i will handle? something tells me your willing to test and one of this time you'll get a murder answer.
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Public entry the bottle
August 26, 2009 @ 11:26:30 pm
an old man shaking the bottle to find his wife.
i think i almost saw her wave goodbye/
hunched over the desk he no longer used.
while the answer to life lays beneath some tattered work books.
the calendar is printed 1991.
the clock singing all the time that has run.
but the man shakes and shakes to see the woman he loved.
for he accidentally dropped her inside one time.
the place clutter at every move you make.
while the man shakes hunched over his rusting desk.
he yells for her to come back and be well.
i wonder if he can hear her in the bottle she fell.
"old man, old man." life sings with the clock. "-forget the woman that your death has shocked.
but then a smile appeared in the bottle he shook.
about to take her out
he fell in too....
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Public entry open vein
August 22, 2009 @ 02:04:43 am
The wind breathing an air of elegant might.
Takes of my head and attaches it to one chime.
I grasp the bottom edge and let it float.
Knock three hundred times and lift the color door.
I sat on the ground with stretch knees.
Watch them extend to reach immortality.
A white dancing feather rested on my lap.
I touch the pink tip and fell on it's trap.
I shove the feather into my heart,
so the force of truth won't rip it apart.
I lay on the grass and put my hands to the side.
Ask the white gown man that passed by, if he "wanted to
go for a ride".
He brought down a cloud and I saw the town he lived in.
The bird-people smile,waved and greeted.
I hoped on in for a breath of adventure.
If the mouths ask me I'll say I don't remember.
The bird-people all laughing with joy.
Stroking the grinning painted face on the wooden floor.
We passed the clock,the window,a mirror,
Say hello to the child picking up fevers.
I catch a butterfly between my pale hands.
Smile with falling lips as it's color painted my laughs.
The clouds whisper more mist above us,
lingering eyes as the white gown man worked the shovel.
A great reflection appear.
making me see the real smiles of those near.
The glisten in my eyes faded slowly and surely,
as the corner of there mouth stretch beyond fury.
To turn a head I repeated the record,
but I was caught in the onyx glare the flicker.
Seeing the future, my future, that time hidden.
Trap inside of bottle blood that I bitten.
My eyebrows raising as they tilt there head backwards
and started to shriek.
Shattering pieces of the world that tried to flee.
I fell on my palms and the figure on the floor burned.
Inhaling the dark power that float through.
I could not deny-I could not ignore the pain that was on my
back, ripping each stone.
Feathers and more feather pining over the root of my spine.
Each vertebrae gaining there own cup of wine.
The white-gown-man facing the running world.
A gaze from my charcoal tint as he slowly turn.
I yell "Make it go away!".."Make it end!".
Tainting his solace place as my tint shed.
"MAKE IT END!". I pleading with one more rich feeling.
His voice like singing chirps whisper "The
ending.."-"Where is it?"...
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Public entry i guess
June 27, 2009 @ 03:46:25 am
i always been afraid to express what i think because sometimes i believe that i don't own my own thoughts. as if they keep flying all over the place, whispering to one another and as if i'm not allowed to know. sometimes i tell myself if i truly want to know.but the curiosity burns again and i'm afraid to rust.once again i lay my hopes on technology to do what a pencil or pen won't do. i mean writing with a pencil is always wrong, having that temptation to erase the life of the words that once live,and you really can't erase it completely. and that pen that always ends up running out of ink after the seventh page. it's like it doesn't want to know what happens next. but i keep pushing until all the speaking of the characters sway in my circulation and create a crash accident on the very tip of my fingers. then i'm force to squeeze them out of my pores like the last toothpaste in may. it's messy it's difficult but i want all of it even the very last dripping word. it's like i'm playing hide and seek each day...every day.5,4,3,2,1 ready or not here i come.
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