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soucyland

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(no subject) [Jan. 5th, 2011|05:36 am]
soucyland
I do not know the name of the man who built my house. I live there all the same. Everyday it is my comfort, my sanctuary. I long to be there when I am away and loathe to leave there when I'm home. And yet, I do not know the name of the man who built my house. It is where I rest. It is where I heal. It is where I dream of things that will happen one day. It is my comfort and my shelter. And yet, I do not know the name of the man who built my house. A hundred years from now, there will be people living, longing, loathing, resting, healing and dreaming under the roof I build. And they will not know my name. I would have it no other way. Let my achievements stand on their own and serve without my name.
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Warm Winter [Dec. 24th, 2010|09:21 am]
soucyland
And so, another year. And yet, not another year. A year of growth and inspiration. A year of life. To anyone who may stumble upon this, I offer you the best of wishes. May your life have just enough pain to make the joys brighter, and not one ounce more. May your regrets lead to proud moments. May your weaknesses lead to strength. May your hungers be fed. And may your nightmares be forgotten. I love you. Happy days from here on.
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Long hours [Dec. 30th, 2009|12:42 am]
soucyland
Sometimes the wind tells me stories about lonely hours,
cutting to the bone with that emptiness that only comes with the cold.
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(no subject) [Jun. 10th, 2009|12:09 am]
soucyland
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Isolation is a buried treasure [Sep. 2nd, 2008|03:41 pm]
soucyland
I can now see the barren landscape of my future. The once lush forests of my youth have become the deserts of my waning years. I can now see the towering mountain that will be home to my new solitude. I can hide, lick my wounds, and disappear.
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Why am I all of a sudden a follower? [Mar. 12th, 2007|04:10 am]
soucyland




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so, Tim... this is a good idea, why? [Mar. 10th, 2007|05:17 pm]
soucyland

Crush this person!
Get your own ThisCrush.com CrushTag!
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(no subject) [Jan. 31st, 2007|05:34 am]
soucyland
my pimped pic!
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(no subject) [Jan. 6th, 2007|04:23 pm]
soucyland
Her habits are easy to map. The day seems to be filled with a sort of malaise that brings her from one location to another. Her floating lifestyle makes it that much easier for me to forget she's anything but a target. I can see her form through the gossamer curtains of her bedroom window. She is pacing with a phone to her ear. The conversation has her upset. Moving with aimless passion she flails her arm as if it to illustrate to the person on the other end of the phone. This shows me what I do not want to see. She is human. It shows in her protestations. I can see it in her silhouette. My pistol feels cold and mechanical in my hand now. She deserves to die in person. She deserves the blade. To look into my eyes and to feel her life ebb away. I'll wait until she goes to sleep.
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The Rain Is Just the Angels Weeping [Jan. 6th, 2007|04:22 am]
soucyland
In my right hand there is a pistol. A marvel of art and function. It is curved like a lover's body snuggly resting against me. It is the tool of my trade. I am a killer. Most people don't understand the nuance of being a killer. They want it to be about a lack of morality or a lack of soul. They want it to be the overcoming your natural impulses and following through with acts and deeds that are unjustifiable. But it is a skill. Just like any skill. It requires hard work to maintain your edge. There are always up and coming hotshots who want to take you down. But in this business, there is no walking away, and there's no turning it down. Tonight I am following a young woman who saw the wrong thing. Unfortunately for her, she doesn't even know what this thing was. Her life is forfeit because she was a few minutes late or early, because she turned left instead of right, because she took a cab or chose to walk. For whatever reason, this is her last night. And I am the last thing she will ever see.

*This is a work of fiction, please do not be afraid that I am hunting you down. I am not. Even if it seems like I am. I'm not. Even if I follow you around. I am not going to hurt you, or anyone else.
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