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tendrils_of_doom
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Blake
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I can see the horizon clearly. I can feel the pull of the moons and can build my rocket ship, chunk by corroded chunk.
But somehow, I can jump whats now. All the easy stuff, that I should cruise through, The stuff any old alien can do is holding me back.
I'm grasping at the ends of my-ideal-reality, but its a thin grip, and I'm not sure it will hold.
These light grey wisps of destiny don't seem too stable.
Do I let go, and go through the groundwork, knowing it might never amount to anything, or do I hang on for dear life, to these tendrils of doom, knwoing they could give way?
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020529
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Photophobe
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Hold on for dear life, inhale, exhale.
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020529
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Tildan
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There is no sky up there, really.
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020529
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Stop Bath Burns
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You can't hold on, and you're useless for the real world
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020529
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fixer is poison
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Can't you see? The tendrils are you. You control your own doom. You're destroying yourself by seperation.
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020529
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dermititis keeps you from the darkroom
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come whole
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020529
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magenta on my lens
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reform
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020529
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much prefering the wave form
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you'll come back to me
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020529
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my phobia extends
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I'll come back to me
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020529
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pinhole image of blood
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stop it
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020529
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torpedoes hurt
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stop
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020529
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Very scared of the brightness
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whole
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020529
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Roy
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whole
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020529
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t
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Grasp your doom by the fucking edge, and ground yourself.
Find a fucking anchor and go it.
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020529
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Tildanphobe burning
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Grasp your doom by the fucking edge, and ground yourself.
Find a fucking anchor and go it.
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020529
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Photodan glittering
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snap out of this
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020529
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Scarlet Photos
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anchor
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020529
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Blake
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ok
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020529
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window
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there is no snapping out and if he's no good for the real world what should he do?
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040307
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