The time is near... so near, it's stirring the blood in their veins. And yet beware; don't let the wine go to your braiiiins. For the army we fight is a dangerous foe, with the men and the arms that we never can match. Oh, it's easy to sit here and swat 'em like flies, but the National Guard will be harder to catch. We need a signnnn, to rally the people, to call them to arms, to bring them in lineeeeee.

Well. You know I MUST be bored if I'm posting a journal that starts off with Les Mis lyrics. Yeah, it's about that time of the week where I subconsciously do anything and everything to distract me from my homework until the last minute. It's a bad habit of mine. I could at least be doing something productive with this time, like DRAWING(which I will get around to at some point tonight), or picking a proper audition song. The song containing the lyrics above is a candidate, as is Endless Night from the Lion King. I usually can't belt that well, but those two songs I worked really hard to get myself to do so properly.

I'm still on my writing thing. I've been coming up with random lyrics over and over, and never committing to a full song. I think I've got a winner with the most recent lines, though. They sound cool out loud.

Also... last night, I had a dream. I dreamed that I awoke in a desert called Cyberland. It was hot, my canteen had sprung a leak, and I was... thirsty. Out of the abyss walked a cow; Elsie. I asked if she had anything to drink, and she said, "IIIIII'M FORBIDDEN TO PRODUCE.... milk. IN CYBERLAAAAND, WE ONLY DRINK.... Diet Coke."

Yeah... gonna shut my trap before I make myself look insane or something. SPEAKING OF WHICH... Holy jumping Jesus hopping through hoops of fire! So, I showed one of my poems to someone at school, and as some of you know, they are of a dark tone. Well, he got all scared, thought I was gonna commit suicide or something, told a guidance counselor, and THESE FUCKTARDS WANT ME TO EITHER TONE DOWN MY WRITING, OR NOT SHOW IT AT ALL. I WILL NOT be censored, or change my style just to fit the norm. What I write is what I write; there is no hidden meaning, no subtext, no allusions to what's going on in my life. It's just a written manifestation of things that I can't say or do. IT'S JUST ART. IF I DRAW A PICTURE OF TWO MALE RENAMONS FUCKING, IT DOESN'T MEAN I LIKE DIGIMON OR MEN, DOES IT? Same with poetry. =P

Sorry, going away, for real this time.

P.S. NOW THESE FUCKING ASSTARDS ARE TRYING TO CONTROL MY LANGUAGE AS WELL. Well, guess what, teach: SHIT PISS FUCK CUNT COCKSUCKER MOTHERFUCKER TITS FART TURD 'n TWAT is what I have to say to you. You can't shut me up, you can't dumb me down, and you especially have NO authority over what I can and can't say, so blow it out your ass and shut the fuck up before I kick you so hard in the face that your tits will bleed.