Explicit Sins.

Explicit Sins.
Name
you can call me Liz ..or Fatma
Age
42
Gender
Male
Location
Kuwait

Member since August 31st, 2005

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About

Sinner

Black tears on pastel lips were always my trademark.

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Ear candy:
Good Charlotte. | .Green Day. | .My Chemical Romance. | .Simple Plan. | .The Red Jumpsuit Aapparatus. | .PANIC! At The Disco. | .Bowling For Soup. | .Placebo. | .Son Of Dork. | .McFly. | .Arctic Monkeys. | .Muse. | .Sum41. | .Fall Out Boy. | .Blink-182. | .+44. | .All American Rejects. | .Foo Fighters. | .Snow Patrol. | .Evanssence. | .30 Seconds To Mars. | .The Fray. | .The Beatles. | .Lostprophets. | .Maroon 5. | .Nickleback. | .AFI. | .Billy Talent. | .Taking Back Sunday. | .The Used. | .The Ataris. | .Cold War Kids. | .Cute Is What We Aim For. | .Lifehouse. | .Queen. | .The Dresden Dolls. | .Plain White T's. | .Bright Eyes. | .Weird Al Yankovic. | .The Get Up Kids. | .The Red Hot Chilli Peppers. | .Mariana's Trench. | .Aiden. | .Brand New. | .Boy's Night Out. | .Breaking Benjamin. | .Mindless Self Indulgence. | .Gym Class Heroes



My passion is drawing out words that speak for me as my actions never sufficed. | .And as any human being my memory fails to serve me that often. | .I am my worst enemy when it comes to critism. | .I long to the lonesome company of the only person that is worth my presence: Me. | .Nice and sweet can be one side of me but the truth is that what you see is not what you get. | .My music has helped to form the person I am today. | .I honestly believe that if I wasn't the fat fucked up mess I am today, I wouldn't have uncovered the pen that fuels my sanity.

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Read to me,
Love me.



I just thought of adding this to my profile out of pure boredom, nothing more, nothing less.

I am a writer as you see and I love it. Writing is my art, my pen is my brush with which I paint words on pages expressing what I want to say, or what I can't say for a number of reasons. I might be a shy introverted person to most of you on the outside but that's my shell which hides all the conflict within.

The insecurites my tongue doesn't dare to spill but the characters I create say ever so freely.
In a way they are a disformed picture of me hidden beneath other names, famous or fictional.
Words are beautiful and amazing in so many ways.

They seem so meaningless some times but during others they hurt and slash into our egos so painfully the hurt is beneath and beyond repair, making us prefer the physical pain and want it so badly instead. Or maybe it's the lack of them is what causes us the hurt, that's why the silent treatment succeed in working us up until we're finally fed up with it as it reveals how other people could actually move on without us, thus lessening our sense of importance and stomping on it carelessly.

Us.

That's what really matters in this world, isn't it? Every word we write has to be linked to us laying out our emotions in the open one way or another even if we haven't felt a certian emotion before , like for instance: love.
One of the most written about sentiments in the history of the world, the one that many people seek in its true form every day of their lives.

Imagination does it all for us, and that's what being a writer is about. Being able to form a coherent but artistic mixture of words beautified by our imagination all in one mold.A story, a poem even a journal it doesn't matter, when all these factors join it makes this written peice of work equal to any painting that's drawn with the same passion that both of the works contain. Because lastly it is, as we all know, art.



Naked Boys...
Seriously...

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