I hope to see you there.
Invite your friends


Release meLet me out of here please Its kind of small in your mind Id like to feel the outside breeze And invade the other human kindRelease me
I will bang and thud and bang again Until you open your door The drum and bass will make you insane And I will declare war
Release me from my tiny cage And let out your pain as well Liberate the fit of rage And I will find a new place to dwell


Angel NecroNext to the tavern between the two theatres peer down the alley admire the black shining feathers below the arc of a bridgeAngel Necro
But beware the alleyway my friend do not venture along that path lazing in the city world is the deadly beast hand of eyes
You will hear his scrawny song echo from his sad shapeless mask, the ticking of his heart of eternal time then the silence of the dead
this is what has been created by the houses and the anvils syringes and electricity Realise and you will be fine


Land of the Deaddown the stairs he took me his fullness plain to see my absentness a great massLand of the Dead
around the clean lines an explosion of minds image by image
follow me my little child his face calm and mild I did not see the blurred line
we stopped by the moving edge he sat me down on a stone ledge pushed me into the darkness of nothing
So here's the deal: January is a new month, and a new year, to start over from scratch and remember what Write-Off is ALL about.
And in good ol' Write-Off spirit, we're kicking off the new year with a brand spankin' new competition. Want more information on entering and prizes? Check out the home page.
Now come on, you WriteOffers, you. Show us what you're made of.
Are you IN for January?
Love and be loved,
BA
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*007-WriteOff - Not such a crazy idea after all.
Beware The Scent of Elderberries!
The Most Shagadelic Writing Club Around.
YEAH BABY!
--
What comes to pass when your last heartstring is torn?
-Charles
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Atheist?
Agnostic? Humanist? Freethinker?
Join the club!
--
[link] You can join now!
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[link] You can join now!
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A wilted bouquet tied up with lace,
A girl on her bed with tears down her face
By the look in her eye
Her love has turned dead
Just like the flowers and the lines that he said
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