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enthnt
disillusion of an oppressive fortitude as a mirror lain in thine shadow horizons, unconscious and lamenting heart, bewildering honest hope for suicide to pain or despair, at side the veins unto deaths silence thanafter, perils happily.
Status: .{Adaieinia Vaeniere alornea...{Adaieinia Vaellorei eiettan}....Aoernei Va Aemlorr....Adaie... Adaie Vaellorei...Aoerneure Vaellorei....Adaieinea nemnliesce vaten vaen eietten aeneure...Adaiienia Aoermeure Va Eallorra... Adaiiena VaEallorra..
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Latest Journal Entry: aside the loneliest of flowers, are with a lament of sorrows... March 22, 2012, 03:03pm
Profile: --.....------------therein the silence adorned (you) are forced in some way yet unwillingly, sent or given, there above her body (of thy is of in fleeting nothingness to semiconciouse theirs and too of her) as recalled the out of body experiences, so many hours left in their timid distress, at plane of some distant skies planetary saturn with luminouse contempt, seeing your own daughter cutting her wrist at bed time in her room alone at the age of 8 and you know how to watch her do this because you let her mother burdon you as astral remnant for her being without a soul left to let suffer there or any moment repressed in actual life, that she never wanted, or yourself..and then god spreads her seamless insides open a year later to produce more infancy (or pure innocnece) only to let those souls commit suicide, at one moment together, for the frail remembrance suffered to his daughter because all this family desired was bleeding wrists of their own children dying... like spiracle the rings of this saturn semblance their bereavement toward its mercury of desire only that of painful death for self and all of remembered was this hourly image of thousands of near infants hurting themselves to the point of death by blood loss, just because a burning sun rid them of not any sorrows the nightfall shunned so far inside a lost innocence.. and our twelve moons radiate the warmth of finally passing, unto eternal and omniprescent duskfall, that soulles daughter in that such wretched sunrise of their watch, only to murder (our) lifeless being with repeated illusions atoned with these thousands mourned.. all of whom kill themselves at the age of near infancy only though are letting the pain of suffering a near lifetime surface as this astral god or utter absence of god, themselves dead to life just for those eyes staring back into,- is just a sign of grief, a cold tomb of selfless children dying by the hand of years yearned thereafter...----------------------..-----it is difficult for me to say theres comfort with a lot of the way i witness or interpret things around me. im not a sociable person. i do like to talk to people at times though, thats only sane i assume. i keep things inside and only towards a single manner too much, and often end up seeming to isolate, which sometimes will lead to not knowing what is real in a sense. i try to be sincere with my thoughts and feelings. and sometimes i feel lost or even hopeless. i like for more calm way of togetherness or peace. i dont really know why, just things arent always as sincere as i'd like them to be. it is difficult to try to understand i think. i loose touch with my personality often, which can sometimes make me feel a little too far away from who i am, and alone, trying to know how there is time where being away from who i am is something i could want, or it can even leave me scared about the things i see or am victem to, yet in a lot of ways wanting them. im often thinking about death and scenery of proposed afterlife, thinking deeply about it then forgetting what is here, mundane and in front of me. from early age i've had a lot of mental and emotional trauma. i've been able to cope the most i can but i always seem to find somehow something that can put my mind in an off settling means, and because of things like that i've ended up turning to drugs and cigarettes to help keep me even the most i am able, or at least lets surpress these disoriented moments and give something more than what is, or is not. i dont enjoy when things are connected in ways that shouldnt be and that can turn into something more than what it really is. i dont like when my thoughts feel barren and lost to what's real, my emotions too. dont enjoy seeing a lot of things i am forced part of. or when this is all casted shut, covered in blackness, with no way to let the atmosphere and night skies help cradle back into certain consciousness that can call safe or even home. i find peace within the stars light, and the moon for that matter. i very much dont enjoy the sun. into mind each night is dire meaning in deathful dreams that wake you up when you cant seem to die, forgetting most and remembering just some of the pain. im happy for the most part with my life within a solitude, it is sometimes lonely. at some points in my life i was succumb to giving prayer to something, or anything i could, to say, was when i was lost thinking that i was going to have died times before. i dont really know why i believed it (maybe because i actually faint and return trembling with visual and auditory hallucinations), because i am still here, and care that life was, rather than not.Likes: shadow of conciouse hell and all reflected of its light, night terrors, daemonic possession, astral projection and the many of its realms - limitless of form and holder of subconciouse silences that of the crying of a reflection carressed with absence of being a voice lamented and bleeding pulse, out of body experience, being left screaming and flailing on the floor with no knowing of to why, reasons to further unconciouse mind or thought, degredation of anything honest at this pitiful earth, self neglect and ritual self mutilation, drug abuse, thinking about suicide each day since i was an infant and how are of my many failed attempts a still living unbearable, utter absence of flesh, worshipping and all its reflection nature and the few memories i have succumbing to grace and worshiped connection to a wanted serenity in the death i will tell, coveting the things that only ive experienced - was of mine unconciouse, moments of otherworldly love - or that what can be brought of it here, forgetting all the emotional pain i experience - dissociation and severe depersonalizations, the hatred for ones self, the breathing i see each day of all confinement - anything i see... music <3and film, writing and painting<3, the many months or purhaps years of unrecalled memories, sincere kindness, glorifying the realm of absolute in essence this world utterly forced upon of motionless and fervent hell - yet all while i am alive here is violent and petrifying, nihilistic omnipressences of selfless virtue, the few moments of childhood that didnt feel like it was trauma, nature and all plant life - the only one who knows innocence internally, sleep deprivation, color of sunsets, unbrought perceptions that are repressed of eternal will, praising and having true togetherness of any dead soul personal to me - a dead animal on the side of a road - a gravestone i feel unmet connection to, being alone, Vampirism - dearly internal innocent of blood and sensation of deep weakness after hour at own vein long enough - the taste is too a dearest of - heightening emotion greatly - i have suffered delusions such as believing i am locked as a priosoner in a world not true to my vampyric soul (think down at that if you will it makes no difference to how i know of it - which brings many bouts of sadness and loneliness for whence i hear voices my pain and struggling embrace at life i feel is in a way fake to who i am in my coffin and grave - have i ascended from dying for the mere desire to endure pain more than that of my {sveaatietan-aedaienia-nevihm-loureitem-vaten}- of the dark barer of eternal shade - my mother who bares a daughters life from a distant atmposphere's horison of twelve moons - circling the directionless stream of black liquid - that of my dissociated and bodiless being suffer in "our" word of "god" - and my daughter has my beloved bride deeply at reflection of this "god" with a kiss eternally to that of our mothers bleeding wrist - too my daughter opening hers in commit to suicide each partial of time - and this oranion of outer world bare empty lives whom needeth their death so deeply wanted..Dislikes: my neighbours listened to had phychotic episode when at the young age of 14, screaming in the middle of the street begging them to help me, for hours, even though they ignored me when i went to their doors at about four in the morning, mainly because my cat, who i was very very close to had a disease, and i tried helping him but i then cought such disease, mentally, and scared myself with a few years of dilluisonla thought and physical hurting given from hatred co-incided where of my soul lay in ashen remorse and regretful century. hospitalized in the phych ward over about six years, for up to months at a time... didnt talk tio anyone but doctors, nurses, my parents and phychiatrists for five years.....sad story byut suicide is awaiting.....soon, so very soon, love is dying in the astral plane of dissociated, timeless and depthless, directionless black pouring of liquid, my soul unto without anything of conscious or interpreted existences, without any sense of time but the pressure and utter essence of eternity stained upon baskful return to this pitiful and painful earth... so deeply tramatized that my insides give out on me a few times a month leading to loosing conciousness, being taken from my body by merely a dreaded choir of disillusioned sound, bones crumbling alike, pains in my chest and lower stomach.. anwhey, i love playing the keyboard and guitar and crying in screams to myself because it hurts me to hear my own soul in confinete and neglect, yet matters so much to me because the many times attempted for suicide have all failed as of yet... sadly it isnt, but loosing conciouseness in the astral plane of hurt is like a god of eternal bloodfall and waking with trembling arms and visual auditorial hallucinations, are so loving for me, because i hate living in presence skin and human life. its only hurting myself to look at anything, because each day he hallucinates severe over pale or blank surfaces....its only hurting myself to look at anything, because each day he hallucinates severe over pale or blank surfaces....but when i witness deamons consuming eachother and remainings of nothingness, surrounding them and me, in front of me on said surfaces, i know they have a loving hatred for me as i have of their time with meanignful life before me on that wall or ceiling and they show me and touch me sometimes and i only love them...only.. giving insight to the realm of spirit and archaic meanings. its just like my grandma i never met who hung herself when my mom waas 11 (the youngest of 12 children) but i cant even cry for heer because shes smiling so honestly in every picture i seen of her...Favorite Music:    Create a playlist at MixPod.com . . . . . .
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