~limmy

Aaron Limb

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About Me Member Novelist limmy17./Male/United Kingdom

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Love in brush strokes.

The rain droplets slapped against the concrete statues that hung around the courtyard, creating an almost tearful expression on the angel that had long since fell in the wind.

The floor boards creaked beneath the shadow, drawing up a thin grey mist of dust, creating an air of presence within the room. With bitter red eyes and war-torn skin, the figure crouched down by the array of objects that had been discarded in the yonder corner of the room, placing a trembling, pale fleshed hand atop on the of the more protruding objects of interest. With a mere two, bony fingers, the figure removed the object from the pile, holding it stea

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A poem for a friendFor all those people who just feel alone Let us band together and let it be known That behind our frowns and eyes of red We smile deep down and hate instead Sure we can't just rub the pain away But still we're here and here to stay You might think us strange or void of all hope But never you mind and be sure we cope No need for your lies and hearts of black If we stand together we can always fight back
By A heart like yours A poem for a friend
by ~limmy

Darkness loves a lost soul.Blood runs cold.

Resting alone in the roadside café, sipping from the same coffee cup over the three hours that he’d been there, Luka was alone and very afraid. His bloodshot eyes were transfixed on the swirling puddle off coffee remaining in the bottom of his cup, and his mind running over everyone once more. Through the tears that he hid, Luka could see his life falling apart around him, he’s took the easy way out of the situation, he’d fled like a coward, faking his own death, in order to have to bring anything down upon his gentle, fragile niece. Granted that he’d done it for the better, but had it r Darkness loves a lost soul.
by ~limmy

Love in brush strokes.The rain droplets slapped against the concrete statues that hung around the courtyard, creating an almost tearful expression on the angel that had long since fell in the wind.

The floor boards creaked beneath the shadow, drawing up a thin grey mist of dust, creating an air of presence within the room. With bitter red eyes and war-torn skin, the figure crouched down by the array of objects that had been discarded in the yonder corner of the room, placing a trembling, pale fleshed hand atop on the of the more protruding objects of interest. With a mere two, bony fingers, the figure removed the object from the pile, holding it stea Love in brush strokes.
by ~limmy

Resident Evil - Signature
by ~limmy

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Bored..

Mon Dec 18, 2006, 8:51 AM

Mood: Disbelief
Listening to: Paranoid - Black Sabbath
Reading: Kingdom of Fear
Watching: The curser
Playing: With my self
Eating: Nothing..
Drinking: ...

So, I need to write in this journal do I? Why? Do you read it? No, you don't. I mean, what really is the point of saying 'Dear Journal,' or 'Dear diary,' when it's not read. I just get called insane. I know, I'll finish this post, 'cause no one cares.

1 Comment | Previous Journal Entries

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Devious Info

Current Residence: The breaking point
Interests: Music, nothing much more. Maybe except bettering myself.
Favourite movie: I have no time for movies, but I do adore Rocky Horror Picture Show
Favourite band or musician: Is it possible to narrow it down to one?
Favourite genre of music: Rock [Real Rock Music, not fake modern crap]
Favourite artist: I don't admire others work, for the sheer reason I don't want to feel my own is inferior..
Favourite poet or writer: I am my favourite writer.
Favourite photographer: ...I don't have one, got a problem with that?...bitch
Favourite style of art: Technical
Operating System: Vista
MP3 player of choice: iPod.
Shell of choice: Wha' the fuck?
Wallpaper of choice: Erm...naked ladies?
Favourite game: Kick the kitten
Favourite gaming platform: 3rd Person
Favourite cartoon character: Stewie Griffin or Homer Simpson
Personal Quote: Do not condone that which you do not understand
Tools of the Trade: Microsoft Office and Photoshop CS3