How the hell do I define this thing I call my identity? It's always changing so it's impossible to pin down just who the hell this person is staring back at me when I look in the mirror. Am I am who I am by the things I think? The things I do? If its by the things I think then I don't even know where to begin. If it's by the things I've done? Well then that's a little easier. A junkie, a loyal friend, a drunk, a lover, a soldier, a punk, a confused teen who doesn't know what the hell he wants, but most of all I'm a bastard. Before I was nine years old, the thought of who I am as a person never even crossed my mind, but then my father killed h
Blondie - 3rd Installment by jersey-machine, literature
Literature
Blondie - 3rd Installment
It had been a while since I'd been to Damian's grave. Not really sure why that is. Damian was buried in a small corner at the back of the cemetery, the flowers on his grave brown with age. I guess I really haven't been by recently.
I don't really know why I'm here now. I guess I just felt like coming. There was a tree next to his grave, sunlight streaming through the leaves, shining down on Damian's tombstone. I sat up against the side of the marker and rested my head against it. I closed my eyes and listened to the breeze and the sounds of August, remembering some of the shit Damian and I had gotten into over the summer when we were younge
Blondie - 2nd Installment by jersey-machine, literature
Literature
Blondie - 2nd Installment
"Mmf, Amy, I can't feel my arm," I muttered when I woke up.
"Sorry," she said as she rolled off and sat up, her back to me. She stretched out, her dark hair falling onto her back. I sat up behind her, wrapping my arms around her waist, my chin resting on her shoulder. I could feel her warmth flowing through me, relaxing me.
I guess I grinned because she turned to me and said, "Mm, look at that, I haven't seen you smile like that in a while. Any reason?" I replied by kissing her and then falling back on the bed. She rested the upper half of her body on mine and kissed me on the cheek.
"What are you thinking about Blondie?" she asked.
"
Blondie - 1st Installment by jersey-machine, literature
Literature
Blondie - 1st Installment
I'll get this out right now. I'm no one special, just a kid who has been through a lot of shit. I've been diagnosed with depression, attempted suicide, self-mutilation, etc. I live with my cousin and his girlfriend in Suburbia. Now can you see why I'm depressed? Probably not. That's right, we've only just met.
Well, let me give you some insight then. When I was 5, my brother Damian who was 17, took me and we ran away from our parents. Our parents were abusive, constantly berating and beating us. Damian said I always got the worst of it, which is why I don't cry anymore. I learned not to. In fact, I have scars from belts on my back.
Damian
The Perception of Self by jersey-machine, literature
Literature
The Perception of Self
The Perception of Self
These eyes have become clouded
Vision skewed by doubt, hate, and blood
An ever-lasting haze has settled
Within the confines of this decrepit mind
Something stirs from within
Venomous bile filling my throat
Dripping from my lips
As I call your name
The sky is out of reach
The rain falls
These clouded eyes see only a crimson rain
These arms cry out for that blissful edge
This throat bleeds from seemingly meaningless words
My eyes burn for an angel
I call your name
See me cry
See me bleed
See me fall
Don't let me die this way…
-Dan Utkewicz
Die, Fall, Rinse, and Repeat by jersey-machine, literature
Literature
Die, Fall, Rinse, and Repeat
Die, Fall, Rinse, and Repeat
Now I understand the reason we fall
It's because we can see the stars as we fall
And we can't see the broken bodies on the ground
Your name on my lips is the sweetest poison
My lips are cracked and bleeding
And it's all from speaking your name
This forced smile is killing me
Emotion is a fleeting pain I don't feel much anymore
You are the first thing to make me feel
Last night I cried and I bled
As I imagined you in my arms
When I saw you cry
I believed I was watching an angel
Don't cry
You're beautiful when you cry
But you're gorgeous when you're not
My scarred arms and torn heart are open to yo
Triage
Stone cold is this hard floor
Hearts nailed and hanging
From every door
Staring into oblivion
Dark crimson beneath my head
A hooded figure in black stands at the end of the hall
Waiting to take my icy, red hand
And join in an eternal dance
The pain is there
But so far away
My hands colored crimson
Convulsing against the chains
Without a sound
I scream and cry
My bloodshot eyes
Scour the raining, red skies
Sweet poison on my lips
Dark beauty rising from the pool of my mind
My last image is of blades and flame
My eyes close
And my shattered body fades…
Flatline…
Among the Missing
I've lost it all
I've lost myself
I'm tired
And I can't feel anymore
Can't see anymore
I'm stumbling in the dark
I've fallen
I lay down and cry
It all flows out
A black pool flows around me
Cold to touch
I wish the impossible
To see the light
A hand on my shoulder
No one is there
Eyes burning into my head
No one is there
A kiss on my neck
No one is there
I stare into the pool
I am not alone
The Leak
It builds
So strong
I can't hold it back any longer
My blood, my anger, is thicker than water
I dammed it up as long as I could
Until you came
Over all this time
You slowly chipped at the cell
At the same time
Your deceit gave to what was in
Finally it all ended
You left
You left me broken
The cell gone
It leaked from my broken body, my broken mind, my broken heart
I scream
Now it's loose
Torment, pain, hate
It's all loose
And now I smile
The joke's on you
Current Residence: Hellhole, NJ Favourite photographer: hmmm....not sure Favourite style of art: No preference Favourite cartoon character: Spike Speigel, Ichigo Kurosaki, Batman, The Flash, Green Lantern, Gambit, and a few others Personal Quote: "Sometimes a lack of words is all you need to say it all..."
Favourite Visual Artist
Salvador Dali is one of them
Favourite Movies
Fight Club, Donnie Darko, The Crow, etc.
Favourite Writers
um...Edgar Allen Poe is one
Tools of the Trade
The downtrodden city that is my mind, the pen is my brush, and anything is my canvas.....
Other Interests
Writing, Photography, Film (watching and making), Music (in general), hanging out, and shooting pool
Time has gone by and a lot of things have changed.
I'm here right nwo to say taht Blondie is discontinued until further notice. I'll be beginning a new story...a very lengthy one that will take me some time to write
Stay tuned for more
Dan Signing Off