Bladed Tongue

...as truth betrays the words you utter...

272 notes

I win and succeed only ‘cause I fail so much. I fail all the time. I wrote 70 songs just to have 12 good ones. For the video I shot 60 hours of footage. 60 hours! To come up with an 8 minute video. So really I only win ‘cause I fail.
Jared Leto (via gangxbang)

(via fuck-yeah-30-seconds-to-mars)

0 notes

Thus spoke The Architect (circa 2007)

The voice in the distance comes,

Calling for a smile.

Telling tales of the you that you forgot,

Remembering times you let slip by.

The voice is shapeless, no body to manifest.

But serenity has overcome me,

Thoughtless, i succumb…

She’s that shining light at the end of the tunnel,

The misty clouds that shade me from the sun.

All the positivity personified,

Negativity you taught me how to shun.

Rhyming needlessly in a storm of words,

You capture my heart in the eye of the storm.

Twisting turning, with violent wind in my hair,

I remember with clarity

That you’re always there..

Making me remember what it is to feel,

That the world is so much more than a farce,

Plotting out the dimensions of my heart,

An architecture of remembrance, from the start.

Simple words, for simple thoughts..

Agony comes in song.

Longing to hold you in my arms,

And let you know, 

That you mended my lacerated heart.

2 notes

Succubus

Silently, she creeps into my bed,
Into my arms, into my head.
All that once was exists no more,
But this silent Demoness of undying awe.

She slithers into me,
Into a cornucopia of limbs.
Lost in her grasp,
Forever lost within her sin.

She’s a Queen of the tryst..
Of trickery and wickedness.
And she’s a Mistress of disguise
As I’m lost in her eyes.

And never will I run
From this Queen of my Heart.
As she sucks at my lifeforce,
And tears my soul apart.

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Until forever and until the end,
All our endings will be happy..
Even in death shall a smile
Crack across our faces;
Through all of the sadness
And through all of the pain..
We will be together, eternally.
JN

0 notes

There are moments when I am glad to be alone—to grieve and repine without any one to share my sorrow: and those moments are beginning to come upon me with ever-increasing frequency. Always in my reminiscences I find something which is inexplicable, yet strongly attractive-so much so that for hours together I remain insensible to my surroundings, oblivious of reality. Indeed, in my present life there is not a single impression that I encounter—pleasant or the reverse— which does not recall to my mind something of a similar nature in the past. More particularly is this the case with regard to my childhood, my golden childhood. Yet such moments always leave me depressed.
Fyodor Dostoyevsky