heh. i go inactive in times of happyness.

seems my distorted view on life is only expressed when i feel like absolute fucking shit.

the negative is so easy to write about. and it eases a bit of pain. but its never gone. even when i'm happy, there's always something pulling me down.

i have a lurking demon. yay for me.
it sits upon my shoulder telling me to kill people...
and write poetry...

perhaps i should write more. i get ideas often enough. even for happy things. but they never make it. normally only the stuff that really hurts at the time might make it to print.
most times i dont even know what i'm writing, nor what its about.

and my poems suck. great. i'm just a lovley little package all round.





i hate it when people dont finish their sentances. the title ends with human.