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ironic_sun

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☆ジン-ジン☆

I miss conversations that didn't start with "this killer truck"

Created on 2007-03-11 21:32:39 (#12476676), last updated 2009-07-03

2,713 comments received, 3,523 comments posted

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335 Journal Entries, 539 Tags, 7 Memories, 40+ ScrapBook Files, 0 Virtual Gifts, 110 Userpics

Basic Info

Name:	I'll help you fluff your garfield

Bio

19 years old. British (half-English, half-Welsh). Owner of a crazy black cat named Abbie (after NCIS' Abby). Questionable sanity. Unquestionable insanity. My favourite things are music, books and fictional psychopaths ;D

I'm always happy to friend new people, though I ask that you comment on my Friends Only post first, unless I know you already. My fandoms are the definition of random, from opera to J-Pop and from Boston Legal to Beyblade. Check my interests if you're not sure.

RPG's
Sorting Hat RP

Arthur Kirkland -

redwhiteandtea Axis Powers Hetalia
Ichabod Crane -

a_cagedbird Sleepy Hollow/The Legend of Sleepy Hollow
Alice Cullen -

psychic_sprite Twilight Saga
Anthony DiNozzo -

veryspecialtony NCIS
Edward Cullen -

the_bloodsucker Twilight Saga
Malik Ishtar/Yami Malik -

twistedegyptian Yu-Gi-Oh!
Sam Winchester -

sweetantichrist Supernatural

Colin/Ryan is LOVE

I'm married to

cape_carnival! ♥ We got Teh Married over at

marry_a_ljuser :Db

css by

milou_veronica
layout header by me
sexyass mood theme by

lidi
Castiel banner by

whaaat_icons
Castiel motivational banner by IDontGetIt-Hojo@deviantart

So we're burning up the summer,
defying God in our juvenile way, blood on our hips, guns in our hands.
"Let's set this goddamn world on fire,"
you would crow, voice catching at the end (on the smoke or on a dream.
I never could tell). I would watch you watch smog hit the mechanized sky,
a hitched-up laugh scraping in your throat, and I'd think: 'We need to get out of this city.'

We found each other in this thing they called a city,
years ago, or maybe just a while, stretched out in that lazy way like summer.
Even back then the air smelled of blood, an arch red sky
burning soot and ash and the scent of flesh. I held your hand-
maybe trying out that childhood knight-in-shining-armor dream,
but after a while you pulled away. By then your eyes had fire.

We found God, and burnt him up with bullets and fire.
We hit the streets of this gunpowder city,
voices just cracking as machine guns rattled: this was the dream.
We took booze as a bible and blood as a priest. Lazy days of summer
and harsh ice-cast winter had the same ash clouds. Your hands
took on blisters, rough callouses you got used to. (You never got used to the sky.)

We weren't scared of dying; not much. Up was heaven's sky
and down was hell- we knew that much. We could take the devil and his hellfire.
The first time I met you- a thousand years, a day ago, there was a doll in your hands-
"It's mine," you whispered, but it disappeared, a few days into this city.
I think you mourned, but that's the summer
you discovered how easy bullets can cut into a man's heart. I like to pretend back then was a dream.

I used to have this idea, this dream.
We'd go together, and we'd find a place with a real sky,
one that glowed white in winter, and in summer,
oh god, in summer, such a heartbreak blue, it would kill that fire
you keep in place of a heart. We would leave this city
to its war and its bullet shells, and you wouldn't pull away when I reached for your hands.

But they're tattooed with blood, those hands,and you've stopped thinking of a better place- the sky is red in your dreams.
You look at me, gunpowder for lipgloss, and you say, "I really like this city."
You're a black outline against the angry sky,
rebel written in summer,
sketched out with fire.

I used to dream we'd leave this city,
build a new god with our own four hands and wash the fire from our lungs.
The sky's burning, and I can't tell if it's summer.
-

trajectory

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