This is a short film that my friend Randy and I made the other night at about 3a.m. Not much to it but here it is...
Friday, January 30, 2009
Friday, January 23, 2009
Joy Division-Unknown Pleasures
Joy Division is my number one favorite band of all time. Ian Curtis was a lyrical genius and the band over all was so innovative that even bands now are still trying to recreate their sound but face plant every time. Some of those bands would be: Interpol, She Wants Revenge, The National etc. etc.
I am bringing you Unknown Pleasures, the first studio album that Joy Division produced in 1979. Signed on by Tony Wilson of Factory Records and produced by Martin Hannet this album stands to be one of the best ever made.
Some notable tracks: Disorder, She's Lost Control, New Dawn Fades.
Track Listing:
1. Disorder
2. I Remember Nothing
3. Interzone
4. Day of the Lords
5. Candidate
6. Insight
7. New Dawn Fades
8. She's Lost Control
9. Shadowplay
10.Wilderness
Link: http://www.mediafire.com/?ndmt3mjoiim
Thursday, January 22, 2009
A Short Story or Titled, "The Pitch."
This is amateur writing at the least. Very lame plot, poor idea, but came from being bored one day and after watching a bunch of horror crime films. Here it is, an old short story that for whatever reason I call "The Pitch."
The pitch-black room was filled with a decaying smell of death. The officers walked in, one of them turned away and puked on the already desecrated floor boards of the old decrepit apartment room of West 4th. There was a murder here and not just you’re normal horror story either. Every limb had been nailed to the wall; each arm and leg had been severed from the torso. The cuts were so fine it looked as if a professional butcher had just prepared a cow for a feast. The appendages were placed in a Picasso style fashion. The arm was where the leg should be and well you get the picture. The most gruesome thing any of the policeman had ever laid their already pained eyes.
Randy Webster, the head detective of the Mansfield Police Department had never seen anything like he had seen during the past weekend. Studying the gruesome pictures he slowly realizes there is something more to this than just revenge or some sick killing. He recalls the movie Se7en and thinks to himself “maybe this has something to do with that movie.” The strange thing is know one could put there finger on why or who would have performed such an act. Mansfield, OH was a small city. There were murders and normal crimes that occur in a city but nothing like this. This entire thing shook everyone and anything in that town.
Tuesday hits and in the Mansfield News Journal there is a code. Detective Webster is in shock, Webster thinks, “Now he is copying the Zodiac? What the fuck is going on?” His thoughts were exactly right, a killing that may resemble something out of the movie Se7en and then now a code from what was the real Zodiac killer. The code appeared to be in something that looked like a mixture of Roman, Russian, German, Chinese and Japanese. Each letter was alternated, flipped upside down, or skewed to make it harder to decode. This killer was not original in anyway but it was frightening for everyone that this was happening in such a small town.
A week later, another gruesome murder occurs. This time an eighteen-year-old girl named Sabrina Whitcalf. Her head was carved perfectly off her perfect little body. Her fingers and toes were snipped off with what appeared to be a pair of fresh scissors. The scissors now had dried blood encrusted around their sharp edges. The blood of the snipped off phalanges were used to write, “I am here, I am your best friend.” Webster busts through the door and suddenly gasps; he yells “Get out!” to the investigation team. The detective slowly walks into the room. Again, the room is dark and smells of death, a chill creeps up the spine of Detective Webster, he shakes hard and steadies his fast paced breathing. He thinks, “Why must this be happening to me? I’ve seen this sort of thing in make believe case files, I’ve been a part of the Force for ages now and never have seen anything like this. Why now?”
John Romero, Webster’s apprentice, comes into the room and asks, “What the fuck is this Randy?” The detective is speechless, he has no answers, and he only has his thoughts.
Weeks and months fly by and killings happen all over the city of Mansfield. There are three more codes printed. Many more messages from the killer and no leads. No one has any clue what or how this is all happening. In this day and age there should be leads with in the first couple of crime scenes. No finger prints, no shoe marks, no traces of any sort of DNA is found. How does a single person perform such acts as carefully and precise as they are?
The twentieth murder occurs and an old tape player is found at the scene. Detective Webster pushes play; it is the voice of his wife Dianne. The message says, “Randy, I am tired of running and I am tired of killing. Please help me! I’ve lost all connection with life. I’m dying. I’m dying! I AM DYING! Webster drops the tape and begins to shed tears of pain and sorrow for what he has just heard. He rushes home and finds his wife strapped down to a chair, her tongue has been ripped out. It is not finely sliced off as with every other killing. It was literally ripped out. Her muffled screams fill the room. He runs to her and screams, “WHAT HAVE YOU DONE DIANNE!?” She cannot respond. She only cries and struggles to break the bonds that have her tied to the chair. He pulls out his gun, he shoots her point blank in the head. Detective Webster falls to the ground and sobs uncontrollably.
A few minutes later the detective regains himself and searches his own home. He goes to the basement to find what are pictures, grotesque pictures. He hears a crack in the floorboards above. Someone else is in the house. He pulls his gun and slowly walks up the stairs, the door is opened, like a flash of lightning he goes spiraling back down the stairs and cracks his skull on an old wooden workbench.
Days go by, even weeks. No one can find Detective Randy Webster anywhere. Searches are conducted everyday.
Detective Webster awakens in a pitch-black room, a small window shines the warm sun onto his face. He is tied to the same chair is deceased wife was tied to. The door flies open and there is a dark figure standing in front of the window blocking out the warm sun. Webster tries to yell, but like his wife, his tongue has been ripped out. His fingers and toes have been severed off. His intestines are lying in a pile next to him. The dark figure speaks, “I am here again, your best friend. Have you missed me? Finally you get to lay your eyes upon my masterpiece.” The lights are flipped on and the man standing in front of the detective is dressed in a red outfit. It is not just the color red but it is the blood of his victims. His gloves, shirt, pants, boots and mask are all made of human skin turned inside out to reveal the veins and blood. The psychotic figure removes the mask and underneath this horrific display is John Romero, Detective Webster’s apprentice. Webster begins to go into a fit of rage and struggles to the point where he cannot move anymore. Romero grabs a knife slashes at Webster. Brutal screams erupt; the painkillers are starting to wear off. The killer slowly begins to finish off the detective. Hours later a final gunshot is heard.
Romero was never caught, nor seen again in Mansfield. The remains of Detective Randy Webster were never found and the case is still open even after ten years. Romero still remains at large but has committed no crimes since. Detective Webster was the only one to have seen him in his gruesome skin suit.
The pitch-black room was filled with a decaying smell of death. The officers walked in, one of them turned away and puked on the already desecrated floor boards of the old decrepit apartment room of West 4th. There was a murder here and not just you’re normal horror story either. Every limb had been nailed to the wall; each arm and leg had been severed from the torso. The cuts were so fine it looked as if a professional butcher had just prepared a cow for a feast. The appendages were placed in a Picasso style fashion. The arm was where the leg should be and well you get the picture. The most gruesome thing any of the policeman had ever laid their already pained eyes.
Randy Webster, the head detective of the Mansfield Police Department had never seen anything like he had seen during the past weekend. Studying the gruesome pictures he slowly realizes there is something more to this than just revenge or some sick killing. He recalls the movie Se7en and thinks to himself “maybe this has something to do with that movie.” The strange thing is know one could put there finger on why or who would have performed such an act. Mansfield, OH was a small city. There were murders and normal crimes that occur in a city but nothing like this. This entire thing shook everyone and anything in that town.
Tuesday hits and in the Mansfield News Journal there is a code. Detective Webster is in shock, Webster thinks, “Now he is copying the Zodiac? What the fuck is going on?” His thoughts were exactly right, a killing that may resemble something out of the movie Se7en and then now a code from what was the real Zodiac killer. The code appeared to be in something that looked like a mixture of Roman, Russian, German, Chinese and Japanese. Each letter was alternated, flipped upside down, or skewed to make it harder to decode. This killer was not original in anyway but it was frightening for everyone that this was happening in such a small town.
A week later, another gruesome murder occurs. This time an eighteen-year-old girl named Sabrina Whitcalf. Her head was carved perfectly off her perfect little body. Her fingers and toes were snipped off with what appeared to be a pair of fresh scissors. The scissors now had dried blood encrusted around their sharp edges. The blood of the snipped off phalanges were used to write, “I am here, I am your best friend.” Webster busts through the door and suddenly gasps; he yells “Get out!” to the investigation team. The detective slowly walks into the room. Again, the room is dark and smells of death, a chill creeps up the spine of Detective Webster, he shakes hard and steadies his fast paced breathing. He thinks, “Why must this be happening to me? I’ve seen this sort of thing in make believe case files, I’ve been a part of the Force for ages now and never have seen anything like this. Why now?”
John Romero, Webster’s apprentice, comes into the room and asks, “What the fuck is this Randy?” The detective is speechless, he has no answers, and he only has his thoughts.
Weeks and months fly by and killings happen all over the city of Mansfield. There are three more codes printed. Many more messages from the killer and no leads. No one has any clue what or how this is all happening. In this day and age there should be leads with in the first couple of crime scenes. No finger prints, no shoe marks, no traces of any sort of DNA is found. How does a single person perform such acts as carefully and precise as they are?
The twentieth murder occurs and an old tape player is found at the scene. Detective Webster pushes play; it is the voice of his wife Dianne. The message says, “Randy, I am tired of running and I am tired of killing. Please help me! I’ve lost all connection with life. I’m dying. I’m dying! I AM DYING! Webster drops the tape and begins to shed tears of pain and sorrow for what he has just heard. He rushes home and finds his wife strapped down to a chair, her tongue has been ripped out. It is not finely sliced off as with every other killing. It was literally ripped out. Her muffled screams fill the room. He runs to her and screams, “WHAT HAVE YOU DONE DIANNE!?” She cannot respond. She only cries and struggles to break the bonds that have her tied to the chair. He pulls out his gun, he shoots her point blank in the head. Detective Webster falls to the ground and sobs uncontrollably.
A few minutes later the detective regains himself and searches his own home. He goes to the basement to find what are pictures, grotesque pictures. He hears a crack in the floorboards above. Someone else is in the house. He pulls his gun and slowly walks up the stairs, the door is opened, like a flash of lightning he goes spiraling back down the stairs and cracks his skull on an old wooden workbench.
Days go by, even weeks. No one can find Detective Randy Webster anywhere. Searches are conducted everyday.
Detective Webster awakens in a pitch-black room, a small window shines the warm sun onto his face. He is tied to the same chair is deceased wife was tied to. The door flies open and there is a dark figure standing in front of the window blocking out the warm sun. Webster tries to yell, but like his wife, his tongue has been ripped out. His fingers and toes have been severed off. His intestines are lying in a pile next to him. The dark figure speaks, “I am here again, your best friend. Have you missed me? Finally you get to lay your eyes upon my masterpiece.” The lights are flipped on and the man standing in front of the detective is dressed in a red outfit. It is not just the color red but it is the blood of his victims. His gloves, shirt, pants, boots and mask are all made of human skin turned inside out to reveal the veins and blood. The psychotic figure removes the mask and underneath this horrific display is John Romero, Detective Webster’s apprentice. Webster begins to go into a fit of rage and struggles to the point where he cannot move anymore. Romero grabs a knife slashes at Webster. Brutal screams erupt; the painkillers are starting to wear off. The killer slowly begins to finish off the detective. Hours later a final gunshot is heard.
Romero was never caught, nor seen again in Mansfield. The remains of Detective Randy Webster were never found and the case is still open even after ten years. Romero still remains at large but has committed no crimes since. Detective Webster was the only one to have seen him in his gruesome skin suit.
Nicotine and Caffeine Fill My Veins
Gaining confidence back is essential.
I’ve fallen from the sky and hit my head.
Amnesia sets in; I refuse to pray.
I need to wean away from the addiction,
Cigarettes and coffee have destroyed my being.
It feels good, the cancer creeping into my body,
I hope it kills me soon.
I’m constantly awake, the caffeine running through my veins.
It’s ending here tonight.
I can’t take this life.
I want to run for miles.
Sweating into nothing, becoming something.
I’ve lost touch with the ones I loved.
I’ve thrown it all away.
I need that feeling.
I must be whole again.
I’ve fallen from the sky and hit my head.
Amnesia sets in; I refuse to pray.
I need to wean away from the addiction,
Cigarettes and coffee have destroyed my being.
It feels good, the cancer creeping into my body,
I hope it kills me soon.
I’m constantly awake, the caffeine running through my veins.
It’s ending here tonight.
I can’t take this life.
I want to run for miles.
Sweating into nothing, becoming something.
I’ve lost touch with the ones I loved.
I’ve thrown it all away.
I need that feeling.
I must be whole again.
Dear Friend,
Welcome home dear friend
I’ve waited for a long time
Where have you been dear friend?
I’ve been lost for a long time
Where is the world gone to dear friend?
I’ve destroyed where I lived
When did you get here dear friend?
I was killing myself from the inside, out.
I’ve lashed out
I’ve lost my mind
Will you help me dear friend?
Or will you destroy me as you did everyone else?
This day and age is not for me
I want to live in the wilderness dear friend
I want to be alone dear friend
I want to disappear from this mess
Give me death; give me death dear friend
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Henry Rollins-Family Man
This is the spoken word "Family Man" from Black Flag's album 'Family Man.' It's pretty rad.
Neo-Nazism
“Perfect Christians,” isn’t that an oxymoron?
I’m tired of seeing something so fabricated.
You are worthless; you have no reason to live.
You think you are better than I but you are wrong.
I will rip you from limb to limb.
False ideologies cloud your pathetic minds.
Weakness is all I see from any of you.
Realize there is no God, and if there was,
It would hate you just as much as I do.
You are anything but perfect.
Burn your bibles, burn your churches.
Everywhere I turn you blacken my path.
Your Jesus loving, self-righteousness disgusts me.
You are the bad in this world.
You are new age fascists,
Neo-Nazi’s, invading countries, trying to convert others.
You start wars that you cannot win.
You start fights that will end in your blood shed.
You say words that will only harm you in the end.
You read your false stories in hopes of false enlightenment.
You preach your false ideologies to weak human beings.
“Perfect Christians,” that is an oxymoron.
You are fabricated bullshit.
You are the evil in this world.
You will be the minority,
You will be punished for what you have done to this world.
by Zach DeLong
I’m tired of seeing something so fabricated.
You are worthless; you have no reason to live.
You think you are better than I but you are wrong.
I will rip you from limb to limb.
False ideologies cloud your pathetic minds.
Weakness is all I see from any of you.
Realize there is no God, and if there was,
It would hate you just as much as I do.
You are anything but perfect.
Burn your bibles, burn your churches.
Everywhere I turn you blacken my path.
Your Jesus loving, self-righteousness disgusts me.
You are the bad in this world.
You are new age fascists,
Neo-Nazi’s, invading countries, trying to convert others.
You start wars that you cannot win.
You start fights that will end in your blood shed.
You say words that will only harm you in the end.
You read your false stories in hopes of false enlightenment.
You preach your false ideologies to weak human beings.
“Perfect Christians,” that is an oxymoron.
You are fabricated bullshit.
You are the evil in this world.
You will be the minority,
You will be punished for what you have done to this world.
by Zach DeLong
Death Prayer
Destruction and chaos cover my paths.
Nuclear explosions pound the ground.
It’s time to kill off these rotten minds.
Fuck you and the whole world too.
I’ll destroy your petty thoughts and emotions.
Car collisions create smiles.
I pray for death and decay.
I pray for death and decay.
I pray for death and decay.
I PRAY FOR DEATH AND DECAY!
Suicides and bombings put me to rest.
You’re death is what I call freedom.
I say fuck you and down with the government too.
Born in a pool of blood, that’s where I hunger.
Kill, Kill, Kill.
I want mushroom clouds to cover this Earth.
I pray for death and decay.
I pray for death and decay.
I pray for death and decay.
I PRAY FOR DEATH AND DECAY!
by Zach DeLong
Nuclear explosions pound the ground.
It’s time to kill off these rotten minds.
Fuck you and the whole world too.
I’ll destroy your petty thoughts and emotions.
Car collisions create smiles.
I pray for death and decay.
I pray for death and decay.
I pray for death and decay.
I PRAY FOR DEATH AND DECAY!
Suicides and bombings put me to rest.
You’re death is what I call freedom.
I say fuck you and down with the government too.
Born in a pool of blood, that’s where I hunger.
Kill, Kill, Kill.
I want mushroom clouds to cover this Earth.
I pray for death and decay.
I pray for death and decay.
I pray for death and decay.
I PRAY FOR DEATH AND DECAY!
by Zach DeLong
Golden Rays
The golden rays beating down on the soft, green carpet.
Running to no where with friends who will never despair.
Feeling of freedom is certainly in the air.
The Earth stops suddenly,
Confusion and pain enters.
A sharp sting and a red stain start to appear.
Dizziness and darkness closes in.
Sounds start to fade away,
Feeling and touch seem at a distance.
Those golden rays cease to exist,
I am in total darkness.
by Zach DeLong
Running to no where with friends who will never despair.
Feeling of freedom is certainly in the air.
The Earth stops suddenly,
Confusion and pain enters.
A sharp sting and a red stain start to appear.
Dizziness and darkness closes in.
Sounds start to fade away,
Feeling and touch seem at a distance.
Those golden rays cease to exist,
I am in total darkness.
by Zach DeLong
This World Has Been Flipped.
The world has suddenly flipped upside down.
How do we stay away from falling?
How do we continue down the path we once walked?
Can past mistakes be forgiven once and for all?
This world has certainly been flipped around.
Do human beings have the ability to change everything they know?
Go to uncharted territory where no one goes.
This world has flipped around to something grotesque,
Can we ever get it back?
Why has it changed so?
Time passes every minute of everyday to years upon years and nothing matters.
This world has flipped to where love exists no more.
People like you, people like me, we all should exist in what should be equality.
Equality does not exist because this world has been flipped.
Former mistakes continually surface, but history does repeat itself.
Why is the past never truly forgotten?
Would the world truly fall to ashes?
Or is it already there?
Nothing matters because this world has been flipped,
Nothing matters because there has been suffocation away from air.
by Zach DeLong
How do we stay away from falling?
How do we continue down the path we once walked?
Can past mistakes be forgiven once and for all?
This world has certainly been flipped around.
Do human beings have the ability to change everything they know?
Go to uncharted territory where no one goes.
This world has flipped around to something grotesque,
Can we ever get it back?
Why has it changed so?
Time passes every minute of everyday to years upon years and nothing matters.
This world has flipped to where love exists no more.
People like you, people like me, we all should exist in what should be equality.
Equality does not exist because this world has been flipped.
Former mistakes continually surface, but history does repeat itself.
Why is the past never truly forgotten?
Would the world truly fall to ashes?
Or is it already there?
Nothing matters because this world has been flipped,
Nothing matters because there has been suffocation away from air.
by Zach DeLong
Childhood
I sit and watch the kids play in the streets,
Care free, no responsibilities.
I certainly do miss those days.
Running from everything and also nothing.
Worries of money never existed,
Emotions never existed as they do now.
Climbing, spinning, running, falling.
There used to be fun in life.
Why is it that as we get older things fall apart?
Emotions collide; bills need paid.
I want to be a child again.
Care free as a wild animal.
by Zach DeLong
Care free, no responsibilities.
I certainly do miss those days.
Running from everything and also nothing.
Worries of money never existed,
Emotions never existed as they do now.
Climbing, spinning, running, falling.
There used to be fun in life.
Why is it that as we get older things fall apart?
Emotions collide; bills need paid.
I want to be a child again.
Care free as a wild animal.
by Zach DeLong
You Can't Escape the Night.
Shimmering water glows with the setting sun,
Warmth fades and coldness overtakes,
Light dissipates as darkness descends.
The moon is reflected in the waves.
Down by the lake thoughts are awake.
Dew on the grass creates an eerie sense.
Animals cry in the dusk light.
We cannot escape the night,
But it is where I like to be.
The night hides our flaws,
The light shows us for what we truly are.
That is why scary things only come out at night.
Fictional monsters do not exist,
Rather human beings are the monsters hidden in darkness.
Just think, what scary things do you see in the light?
We are all afraid of what we become in the night.
True form shows itself, whether hideous or gorgeous.
Humans take advantage of the blissfulness that dark creates.
by Zach DeLong
Warmth fades and coldness overtakes,
Light dissipates as darkness descends.
The moon is reflected in the waves.
Down by the lake thoughts are awake.
Dew on the grass creates an eerie sense.
Animals cry in the dusk light.
We cannot escape the night,
But it is where I like to be.
The night hides our flaws,
The light shows us for what we truly are.
That is why scary things only come out at night.
Fictional monsters do not exist,
Rather human beings are the monsters hidden in darkness.
Just think, what scary things do you see in the light?
We are all afraid of what we become in the night.
True form shows itself, whether hideous or gorgeous.
Humans take advantage of the blissfulness that dark creates.
by Zach DeLong
Faltered Freedom
Freedom exists for the people who make it.
Fuck these crooked politicians.
I say down with the establishment.
Punish these bastards like they have punished us.
Put a stake through their black gasoline filled hearts.
Fuck this military, following false beliefs.
Open your eyes we are not in danger.
9/11 was staged; it put fear into hearts of "Americans."
You have racists, murderers, politicians, crooked cops,
These are the real terrorists, right at home.
Break your weapons of destruction.
Pound your fists in the ground and make a stand.
Quit being a pussy and stand, fuck this government.
Open your eyes and realize what you are a part of.
Quit the killing and mend hurt beings.
by Zach DeLong
Fuck these crooked politicians.
I say down with the establishment.
Punish these bastards like they have punished us.
Put a stake through their black gasoline filled hearts.
Fuck this military, following false beliefs.
Open your eyes we are not in danger.
9/11 was staged; it put fear into hearts of "Americans."
You have racists, murderers, politicians, crooked cops,
These are the real terrorists, right at home.
Break your weapons of destruction.
Pound your fists in the ground and make a stand.
Quit being a pussy and stand, fuck this government.
Open your eyes and realize what you are a part of.
Quit the killing and mend hurt beings.
by Zach DeLong
Whole.
Whole.
Gaining confidence back is essential.
I've fallen from the sky and hit my head.
Amnesia sets in; I refuse to pray.
I need to wean away from the addiction,
Cigarettes and coffee have destroyed my being.
It feels good, the cancer creeping into my body,
I hope it kills me soon.
I'm constantly awake, the caffeine running through my veins.
It's ending here tonight.
I can't take this life.
I want to run for miles.
Sweating into nothing, becoming something.
I've lost touch with the ones I loved.
I've thrown it all away.
I need that feeling.
I must be whole again.
by Zach DeLong
Gaining confidence back is essential.
I've fallen from the sky and hit my head.
Amnesia sets in; I refuse to pray.
I need to wean away from the addiction,
Cigarettes and coffee have destroyed my being.
It feels good, the cancer creeping into my body,
I hope it kills me soon.
I'm constantly awake, the caffeine running through my veins.
It's ending here tonight.
I can't take this life.
I want to run for miles.
Sweating into nothing, becoming something.
I've lost touch with the ones I loved.
I've thrown it all away.
I need that feeling.
I must be whole again.
by Zach DeLong
Love=Destruction
Losing touch with reality
Falling into an unreal state
Looking for life
Everything is hate
Why must this come and go?
Why must it end in such a horrible way?
There's love to be had, yes, there's love to be had.
Falling again, I'm looking for air
Depression sets in, I'm well aware
I've found death to be a friend
I've found life in all the wrong places
There's love to be had, maybe, there's love to be had.
Touching what isn't real
Tasting the blight of life
Awarding hard work with death and decay
Life is impossible; there is no other way.
I've drowned here before
I've completely been erased
There's love to be had, no, there's no love to be had.
by Zach DeLong
Falling into an unreal state
Looking for life
Everything is hate
Why must this come and go?
Why must it end in such a horrible way?
There's love to be had, yes, there's love to be had.
Falling again, I'm looking for air
Depression sets in, I'm well aware
I've found death to be a friend
I've found life in all the wrong places
There's love to be had, maybe, there's love to be had.
Touching what isn't real
Tasting the blight of life
Awarding hard work with death and decay
Life is impossible; there is no other way.
I've drowned here before
I've completely been erased
There's love to be had, no, there's no love to be had.
by Zach DeLong
You Cannot Hide
Don't turn away from what once was,
There is a reason for these thoughts of madness.
Sorrow and hate discriminate from reality,
Tunneling through everything positive.
Where am I to go from here?
Everything is a fictional tale.
Lies and deceit, I am never free.
Fly me away to a land of glee.
Don't turn away from what once was,
There is a reason for these feelings of sadness.
Tears and pain cloud my brain,
I cannot move out of the way,
It has followed me for eternity.
Bring me to light,
I cannot see,
My sickness blinds me.
Follow me to where you once were.
Step Inside.
Step Inside.
Step Inside.
Step Inside.
You cannot hide.
by Zach DeLong
There is a reason for these thoughts of madness.
Sorrow and hate discriminate from reality,
Tunneling through everything positive.
Where am I to go from here?
Everything is a fictional tale.
Lies and deceit, I am never free.
Fly me away to a land of glee.
Don't turn away from what once was,
There is a reason for these feelings of sadness.
Tears and pain cloud my brain,
I cannot move out of the way,
It has followed me for eternity.
Bring me to light,
I cannot see,
My sickness blinds me.
Follow me to where you once were.
Step Inside.
Step Inside.
Step Inside.
Step Inside.
You cannot hide.
by Zach DeLong
Charmed Oppression
Wind, screaming on deaf ears,
Trees, bellowing with constant fears,
Snow, falling on a wounded flower,
There is nothing here that will give power.
Time, it is wasted, completely spent.
Minds, rotted and destroyed.
Tears fall and collide with harm.
There is nothing here; there is no charm.
by Zach Delong
Trees, bellowing with constant fears,
Snow, falling on a wounded flower,
There is nothing here that will give power.
Time, it is wasted, completely spent.
Minds, rotted and destroyed.
Tears fall and collide with harm.
There is nothing here; there is no charm.
by Zach Delong
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