Deadskinmask!!!!!! I Challenge You!!!!
- Thread starter mReEtTaIlRsEkD
- Start date
you have this IF?
Its kinda like the one from PVZ with better quality, well, anyways...
One AE Im not certain about BUT
I am currently recieving Arch_Enemy_Vosselaar_01-12-02.mpg
Its kinda like the one from PVZ with better quality, well, anyways...
One AE Im not certain about BUT
I am currently recieving Arch_Enemy_Vosselaar_01-12-02.mpg
Will Bozarth
Everlasting Godstopper
Captain Beard
No longer active
- Sep 6, 2001
- 28,010
- 99
- 48
PlatypusJesus
A Dead Sun Serenity
Hey, why don't you PM each other and stop discussing on this discussion board. That's not what it is for. No, wait....???
Will Bozarth
Everlasting Godstopper
No, it's called lick my penguin ass you fucking dipshit
what the fuck? YOU can do it with guerrila shit face?
fucking hypocrite
NOT only that, you ruined the thread that was once triumphant in it's mighty penguin pics and forced it into the direction of racism.Bastard.
what the fuck? YOU can do it with guerrila shit face?
fucking hypocrite
NOT only that, you ruined the thread that was once triumphant in it's mighty penguin pics and forced it into the direction of racism.Bastard.
PlatypusJesus
A Dead Sun Serenity
Wow, if you can't tell that that is a joke, "stop discussing on this discussion board," you see I was making fun of how everyone comes in here and tells us that if we want to discuss something then we should pm each other, but this is a discussion board. I mean come on, you really couldn't tell I was emm...like, not being serious. That is just sad. Anyway, PLEASE DON'T HATE ME. 
PlatypusJesus
A Dead Sun Serenity
"NOT only that, you ruined the thread that was once triumphant in it's mighty penguin pics and forced it into the direction of racism.Bastard."
Hey, I'm sorry, but I couldn't just let Guerrilla continue saying what he was without opposition. I'm the type of person that enjoys to argue and discuss with others, nonviolently though. I'm a passive person.
Hey, I'm sorry, but I couldn't just let Guerrilla continue saying what he was without opposition. I'm the type of person that enjoys to argue and discuss with others, nonviolently though. I'm a passive person.
Will Bozarth
Everlasting Godstopper
PlatypusJesus
A Dead Sun Serenity
Well coming from me, you should've known it was bullshit.
Ah, I love laughing at myself. I'm such an idiot. Going and making you guys angry for no reason. What a loser I am.
Ah, I love laughing at myself. I'm such an idiot. Going and making you guys angry for no reason. What a loser I am.
Will Bozarth
Everlasting Godstopper
PlatypusJesus
A Dead Sun Serenity
I swear those are seizure smilies and not laughing out loud laughies. And one day, I shall prove it.
PlatypusJesus
A Dead Sun Serenity
Sorry dsm. Didn't know you were having a hard day. I wouldn't have tried to make it worse. I would try and sympathize with you, but I'm never depressed, but....I know. I'll post an amazing work of mine. Enjoy.
Jeremy Morgan
The Malevolent Reality and Celestial Mirror
In the void of the night, a house painted gray catches the gaze of the lost
In the shadow of stalky brute trees it lays
Shackled remnants of a once beautiful sight
Howling winds punish its foundation
A foundation surrounded by black decaying roses
Above this foundation is a broken porch
A porch that cracks and creaks from the steps of lonely lachrymose souls
Beyond the porch is a door hanging on one hinge that seeps open from these poor spirits of eternal pain
Inside is one room of sable walls and shredded ebony draperies
Behind these draperies is an obsidian window
A shattered gloomy window with ten hairline splits in each pane
The room is dark, bleak, with no light except for the melancholic moons
The hard wooden floor screeches surreally as rats and roaches scatter back to their corners
Here the air is crowded with mournful phantoms who claim this their own
These phantoms stare, they stare at the darkest corner of the room
And in this corner wallows a bodied entity
With hair all around the floor
Hair that has been ripped from his now baldhead in moments of frustration
Frustration that arises from his forlorn solitude and fear of a neverlasting serenity
Up, now, up to his face and into his eyes
His cracked, hollow, amber eyes
Disturbed from ages of sinister solidarity
Eyes that beg to be free, eyes that seek answers
Now further into the eyes and into the mind
A complex and inquisitive mind, raging with questions that have no answers
And the mind realizes this, pressing it further into a spinning flux of insanity
Now across, across to split, torn ears
Ears that listen but never hear
Ears that have been pulled and slashed in attempts to overcome void deafness
And now around and up, up and around to the forehead
A forehead that protrudes outward, swelled
Swelled from being banged against the walls
Banged against the walls to abolish the satanic voices believed to be in his head
Now down, above the eyes to their brows
Shaggy bushy brows in which maggots find their nest
Always slanted from up near the ears to down near the eyes
Displaying internal conflict of opposing opinions and answers
Now between, down to a sharp, crooked nose with stains of blood at the tip
Sharp from his bitter, baneful thoughts of man
And crooked from his fists inflicting punches because of those same thoughts of man
Now, now down to puffy, cracked, dry, harsh lips
Lips that quiver and quake from the blistering cold winds that wail in from the cracks in the door
Lips that open and close yet utter only silence
Now, caged in by the lips, is the desert tongue
A tongue that only moves to taste the bitterness of rats organs and roaches juices
A tongue with teeth marks imprinted in various regions of it creating a vile pattern of disdainful pain
And now out of the mouth and down to the chin
A strong chin, representing his strong will to live
Even through the suffering and struggling, he fights to maintain life
Even through his suicidal considerations, he finds the strength to halt death another day
Now down, down away from his face and to his tattered shirt
A white, sleeveless, auburn stained shirt
A shirt that has seen eons of dreary anger and never-ending battles
But, yet, the shirt stays loyal, loyal even through its own endless suffering
Now, over, over to crimson scabbed, slit wrists
Slit with the use of shattered glass and intention that the demon blood would be released
But, it was soon realized that the demons were a part of him, until his everlasting death
Now down to his uncleansed hands
Hands that have never felt the soothing, soft, loving care of rushing cleansing water
Hands that have only been washed by his own harsh, thick, ominous anguish of slugging soiled blood
And on his palms are scars
Scars that are formed from instants of aggravation
Aggravation produced from the stress of life and all of its hindrances
And those scars were instigated by fingernails
Fingernails that are now presently ripped off to prevent the continuing occurrence of wounds
And onto the knuckles, engorged, battered knuckles
Knuckles that once hemorrhaged from being drilled through the decomposed cemented wall
Now, down down down, down to the feet
Repugnant nervous feet that pound the floor with the force of a dragons jaw
A dragon that is conscious of its rivers flooding vehemence
And now, now inward, inward to his inner being
An inner being that has yet to be deflowered by the throbbing hand of the grim
An inner being that has only drank the nectar of the sweet ethereal light
Now out and away from the body, back to the deconstructed room
Back to the punctured abyss that is the wall, the far left miserable wall
And over and up and down to the center
And in the center rests an anomalous contrasting, contradicting mirror
A mirror that creates a celestial masque of reality
Painting the room in eccentric rapturous colors
Not the colors of the rainbow, but cherubic luminous colors
Colors untainted by the human eye and unimaginable to the human mind
And everything that was once callous, once macabre, once lamentable becomes placid, divine, and jovial
And the phantoms that once moaned their dirge now sing blissfully their ecstatic hymn
And in the middle, in the midst of the entire glorious clamor is the man
A man who knows the answers, who no longer is obligated to venture to the depths of his being to only find questions
A man who is now smiling with ruby delicate lips
A man who moves his tongue rapidly, assisting in producing the vibrant tenor tone that is his voice
A man whose chin is strong, sturdy, robust, just as is his will to live
A man who now can hear the majestic resonance of the world
A man with vivid, pure, aqua eyes
Eyes that grasp their magnificent destiny contently
A man with expressive whimsical brows
A man with a nose that marvelously and enchantingly moves with each diverse articulation of his face
A man with a forehead wrinkled humbly from delightful glee and bursts of hilarity
A man with hair, flowing effervescent glowing mystic rainbow shaded hair
A man wearing a shirt the color of the sky and with the soft tenderness of a mother river
A man whose wrists are sterile, smooth, serene with angelic blood streaming through his veins
Whose hands are cleansed, moist from running loving water caressing them
His palms and knuckles are unblemished, as soft as a milky cream and bouncy cloud
A man whose feet are tranquil, alluring and walk in mesmerizing rhythm with his heart
And whose soul is like a virgin child of innocence and charm
And this man turns toward the dreary, ravenous reality
And the man gives one last smirk, from his left ear to his right
And he lifts his left arm above his head like an archers bow
With a sharp piercing dagger in his hand
And he launches the dagger with the momentum of an enraging, charging bull
And this dagger obliterates the celestial solace into shards
And the shards fall into the abyss, into oblivion
And reality falls with them, creating a destructive black hole of despondent, sorrowful souls singing an elegy forevermore
Jeremy Morgan
The Malevolent Reality and Celestial Mirror
In the void of the night, a house painted gray catches the gaze of the lost
In the shadow of stalky brute trees it lays
Shackled remnants of a once beautiful sight
Howling winds punish its foundation
A foundation surrounded by black decaying roses
Above this foundation is a broken porch
A porch that cracks and creaks from the steps of lonely lachrymose souls
Beyond the porch is a door hanging on one hinge that seeps open from these poor spirits of eternal pain
Inside is one room of sable walls and shredded ebony draperies
Behind these draperies is an obsidian window
A shattered gloomy window with ten hairline splits in each pane
The room is dark, bleak, with no light except for the melancholic moons
The hard wooden floor screeches surreally as rats and roaches scatter back to their corners
Here the air is crowded with mournful phantoms who claim this their own
These phantoms stare, they stare at the darkest corner of the room
And in this corner wallows a bodied entity
With hair all around the floor
Hair that has been ripped from his now baldhead in moments of frustration
Frustration that arises from his forlorn solitude and fear of a neverlasting serenity
Up, now, up to his face and into his eyes
His cracked, hollow, amber eyes
Disturbed from ages of sinister solidarity
Eyes that beg to be free, eyes that seek answers
Now further into the eyes and into the mind
A complex and inquisitive mind, raging with questions that have no answers
And the mind realizes this, pressing it further into a spinning flux of insanity
Now across, across to split, torn ears
Ears that listen but never hear
Ears that have been pulled and slashed in attempts to overcome void deafness
And now around and up, up and around to the forehead
A forehead that protrudes outward, swelled
Swelled from being banged against the walls
Banged against the walls to abolish the satanic voices believed to be in his head
Now down, above the eyes to their brows
Shaggy bushy brows in which maggots find their nest
Always slanted from up near the ears to down near the eyes
Displaying internal conflict of opposing opinions and answers
Now between, down to a sharp, crooked nose with stains of blood at the tip
Sharp from his bitter, baneful thoughts of man
And crooked from his fists inflicting punches because of those same thoughts of man
Now, now down to puffy, cracked, dry, harsh lips
Lips that quiver and quake from the blistering cold winds that wail in from the cracks in the door
Lips that open and close yet utter only silence
Now, caged in by the lips, is the desert tongue
A tongue that only moves to taste the bitterness of rats organs and roaches juices
A tongue with teeth marks imprinted in various regions of it creating a vile pattern of disdainful pain
And now out of the mouth and down to the chin
A strong chin, representing his strong will to live
Even through the suffering and struggling, he fights to maintain life
Even through his suicidal considerations, he finds the strength to halt death another day
Now down, down away from his face and to his tattered shirt
A white, sleeveless, auburn stained shirt
A shirt that has seen eons of dreary anger and never-ending battles
But, yet, the shirt stays loyal, loyal even through its own endless suffering
Now, over, over to crimson scabbed, slit wrists
Slit with the use of shattered glass and intention that the demon blood would be released
But, it was soon realized that the demons were a part of him, until his everlasting death
Now down to his uncleansed hands
Hands that have never felt the soothing, soft, loving care of rushing cleansing water
Hands that have only been washed by his own harsh, thick, ominous anguish of slugging soiled blood
And on his palms are scars
Scars that are formed from instants of aggravation
Aggravation produced from the stress of life and all of its hindrances
And those scars were instigated by fingernails
Fingernails that are now presently ripped off to prevent the continuing occurrence of wounds
And onto the knuckles, engorged, battered knuckles
Knuckles that once hemorrhaged from being drilled through the decomposed cemented wall
Now, down down down, down to the feet
Repugnant nervous feet that pound the floor with the force of a dragons jaw
A dragon that is conscious of its rivers flooding vehemence
And now, now inward, inward to his inner being
An inner being that has yet to be deflowered by the throbbing hand of the grim
An inner being that has only drank the nectar of the sweet ethereal light
Now out and away from the body, back to the deconstructed room
Back to the punctured abyss that is the wall, the far left miserable wall
And over and up and down to the center
And in the center rests an anomalous contrasting, contradicting mirror
A mirror that creates a celestial masque of reality
Painting the room in eccentric rapturous colors
Not the colors of the rainbow, but cherubic luminous colors
Colors untainted by the human eye and unimaginable to the human mind
And everything that was once callous, once macabre, once lamentable becomes placid, divine, and jovial
And the phantoms that once moaned their dirge now sing blissfully their ecstatic hymn
And in the middle, in the midst of the entire glorious clamor is the man
A man who knows the answers, who no longer is obligated to venture to the depths of his being to only find questions
A man who is now smiling with ruby delicate lips
A man who moves his tongue rapidly, assisting in producing the vibrant tenor tone that is his voice
A man whose chin is strong, sturdy, robust, just as is his will to live
A man who now can hear the majestic resonance of the world
A man with vivid, pure, aqua eyes
Eyes that grasp their magnificent destiny contently
A man with expressive whimsical brows
A man with a nose that marvelously and enchantingly moves with each diverse articulation of his face
A man with a forehead wrinkled humbly from delightful glee and bursts of hilarity
A man with hair, flowing effervescent glowing mystic rainbow shaded hair
A man wearing a shirt the color of the sky and with the soft tenderness of a mother river
A man whose wrists are sterile, smooth, serene with angelic blood streaming through his veins
Whose hands are cleansed, moist from running loving water caressing them
His palms and knuckles are unblemished, as soft as a milky cream and bouncy cloud
A man whose feet are tranquil, alluring and walk in mesmerizing rhythm with his heart
And whose soul is like a virgin child of innocence and charm
And this man turns toward the dreary, ravenous reality
And the man gives one last smirk, from his left ear to his right
And he lifts his left arm above his head like an archers bow
With a sharp piercing dagger in his hand
And he launches the dagger with the momentum of an enraging, charging bull
And this dagger obliterates the celestial solace into shards
And the shards fall into the abyss, into oblivion
And reality falls with them, creating a destructive black hole of despondent, sorrowful souls singing an elegy forevermore
PlatypusJesus
A Dead Sun Serenity
I don't know, that might make you more depressed. Damn. Well, for what it is, cheer up man. Life is just an experience and death can come any second and you don't know what lies ahead, so you might as well make the best of this life as you can.
PlatypusJesus
A Dead Sun Serenity
Will Bozarth
Everlasting Godstopper
ya, i dunno why i get like this... i have no reason too.. past creeps up on me, and WHAM... there goes my head. im gettin better tho. ill read that thing up there when i finish this acoustical song, tnx 
