Shy Passions

not a pretty picture

in the dark corner, he sat, the spit soaking, crystal webs forming, erase the face that hides inside, the thoughts, a single wave of inspiration whitening the black of his brain, his heart, holding the key, holding the knife, to feel, to love, he knows not, his soul in stitches dangling its dirty heart on a string, bleeding from the hole thats known whats been left way back on the road, the broken cross, hes stepped out of line, strangle him to death, then kiss him goodnight I have social anxiety, which is not easy to live with. Everyday is like waking up in a nightmare, and the door leading to the outside might as well have a large posted sign telling me to abandon all hope. I have stumbled upon here in the hopes that maybe I can find a friend (something that I have never really had). About me: I love to write and play guitar, I would love someday to have something published even though I am not really good enough (its not a sin to dream right?), I love nature and the peace I find walking through the woods or staring up at the stars at night. I love reading and listening to music as well (punk,ska,early 90s mostly..I dont know why) There is alot more that I can say but I am going to cut this short in that I always feel weird talking about myself. Thanks to anyone who actually has read this.

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