I hate rhyming poetry. Urgh.

The places where we used to walk
the places where we used to talk
those thoughts are in my head
and keep returning.

The tunnel under railroad tracks
Graffitied walls and old, damp cracks
my footsteps echo loudly
in the night

The wind blows, silent, through my hair
while memories of nameless fears
all rush to flood the surface
of my mind

I'll walk into the cold, still lake
a trail of ripples in my wake
and now we'll finally
be forever apart.

(no subject)

Chris: "I'm not so good with doing the hole thing."
Chris again: "Oi, dude, come back. I want you!"

Hot and cold...

Thankyou. Good luck.



















And Llama.

It never rains, but it pours...

So I had an extremely shitty night last night. Then I was woken up this morning by Mum, ringing to say that Tristan, the oldest son of a family that my family has been friends with for years died in a car crash last night, and his younger brother James is in intensive care.
James must be about 12ish by now; Tristan was a few years older than me. I used to have a crush on him when I was a kid.

Then I found out that one of Nic's friends at Telecom that I knew just got done for child porn.

And then I found out that the older brother of a guy I knew from ATC hung himself this week.

*sigh*
What a week.