5:23 p.m. - 2007-06-07
From my own hands?
Meloncholy derived from confusion. The heart beats faster and the blood fills it but only for a short while. Entertaining false pretence , though I've found out the hard way that they are as trecherous as serpents. I've found that I can not create with claws. Life in my hands crumbles into ashes, dissapearing into the wind.

Misconception derived from exhaustion. I'm sick and tired of trying. Were am I failing? Is it one of this "at the right time right place sort of things"? or is the the other way around? In my hands, in my fucking hands, the world crumbles.