sometimes fiction is the best fact |


04. immortalhe is the type of boy who likes to collect dead things.04. immortal
you rarely see him come outsideexcept, of course, at nightbut the other day you happened to get a good glimpse of him. the curve of the sun's shadow on his face made him look like a gaunt horror-movie-esque character, and the freshly dead frog he held so gingerly in his hand enticed you to become one of his lifeless companions. and you thought to yourself, what am i thinking? but you knew what you were thinking, and you knew you wanted to think it.
today he sits in his thick leather chair with the skull of an ox in hi


the psyche wardi have plastic aquarium decorations floating around in my head. they are not tied down because i like to fish around for some new idea to pore over in my mind every few seconds.the psyche ward
sometimes i do not know why i have so many turnarounds on the track of my train of thought, but whatever reason it is must have something to do with lack of ability to stay in one place.
right now my mind is in vienna; within a few seconds it could board a space shuttle and rocket itself to jupiter. some days it wants to jump without a parachute and


14. wasteso i was lying in bed last night thinking of what a waste of time you were and that i shouldn't have let you get to me. but then i realised that it's only because you did everything you could to get meget me right in the palm of your hand where you wanted me. but i wasn't there so you could blow me away or set me free like a lost dandelion seed. i was there so you could crush me.14. waste
on so many occasions i've tried to make an alphabetical list of everything that keeps me up at night but the only letters that are there are o-u-y. the sun has been behind a cloud for so long but now i ca


dollfacelisten. press your ear to the glass and try todollface
hear through. if i could grab your porcelain face in my fist and compress until it shattered, i would have done it long ago.
i wonder how many UV rays have whispered
cancers into your skin. how many epithelials of the xy sort have been affixed beneath the trenches of your fingernails.
judging by how many bleach-white sheets you have rolled around in, your skin must be a concoction of chemicals. who will want to touch such a poisonous hide?
you intend to make y
i put a lot of work into my writing. i change styles a lot, but i stay somewhat on the same path. i just like to veer. take a look; i'm sure you can find something you like! i appreciate and reply to all comments, but unfortunately i do not have time to thank for favourites. however, this does not mean i don't appreciate them. i really do. so, thank you. so what are you waiting for? check it out. - - - all deviations in my gallery are © me, sarah elisa. please do not use anything without my written permission. this includes reposting on blogs or other websites. do not claim my work as your own. |
everything amazing that i wish i had made. |
+ sarah. sixteen. i think i'm crazy, maybe. people waste their time trying to find the meaning of life. well, i've saved myself that trouble and decided that life is meaningless. x |

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You can trust me. I'm not a copyright psycho
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Sui ipsius amor maximus est amor
~the greatest love is the love of oneself~
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Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--
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