“I loved the irradiate refuge of sleep. In my dreams I found a little of the beauty I had vainly sought in life, and wandered through old gardens and enchanted woods.”—H. P. Lovecraft (via loveage-moondream)
"We were once brothers but life got in the way. Now I look at you and have nothing to say. Differences aside, we could have worked it all out. But apparently you’ll never understand what I’m about. You could write a bullshit, cry-baby song. Or you could say it to my fucking face. Never on my side, always full of lies. This is where it ends, fucking die.
Sick of living in America! Sick of mass hysteria! Sick of realism! Sick of Buddhism! Sick of longboards! Sick of hardcore! Sick of Catholics! Sick of atheists! Sick of police! Sick of yuppies! Sick of paying rent! Sick of being bent! Sick of hearing lies! Sick of mankind!