

Who do you want to be?wander through the week asking for nothing,Who do you want to be?
The lonely parks you will find yourself in, talking yourself out of fears
and then the nights youll walk into, the girls in the toilets of clubs, in dresses, all too aware of their smoky eyeshadow and drunken moments they wont ask these moments to be taken away even if they do something stupid in the hours before morning has slipped above their heads
The way we write out our lives
not realising how inadequate it all will seem in the end


seeing clearlywe were already pushing away from the light that the world poured into, the seagull flapped in between my days where you wrecked and pinched the stony walls i had gathered myself into. here, when all my notions fall away, you're there halfway a shadow, a sleepy hooded figure colored with enigma, the propensity of thoughful thinking you leave me with, i am nervous, i hate to have to say it to myself, allowing the folds of your voice to puncture into my mirrored distance of the world. You are the glass i look into, and fseeing clearly


Memories- from when I was fourSometimes, it is red. My memory poses with the mirror swimming in color. Wherever I look, there is red on my hands, face and the entire dressing table. A flicker. Mum's lifting me and putting me down. She pulls the lipstick out of my hand. I don't recall shouting, but maybe there wasn't any. The four year old mind loves to forget whatever she doesn't like. But this memory is handed to me clearly, a clear sky sticking in my lungs. I remember walking into the living room, the room vaulted with silence. The image which flashes without falter is the strand of understanding unfolding in me. This is when I remember my dad is away in another countryMemories- from when I was four


girl in the attic flies awayi am told love is sure limbed-that it creates the confidence through eyes and hands overriding the soft waves of smiles and perfume on her red red dress. sugar girl, candy mouth, swirls tattoos in his mouth, How her mascara jumps at the world! between the borders of the world too small for the dreams she wants to blush into reality, she finds the milk spill in the kitchen, the blue dress on her bed, and her baby photographs too important. says, i don't want to forget any detail. every detail should cling to you like wet clotgirl in the attic flies away
--
From Your Friendly Neighbourhood Square.
You Laugh Because I'm Different, I Smile Because Your Fly Is Down.
0118-999-881-999-119-725-3
--
Showna was here.
--
so much love to do.
--
<< non sempre è giusto dire per forza tutto, forse qualche volta si può provare a dire qualche cosa in meno e lasciare che chi ci ascolta giunga alle sue conclusioni usando la propria sensibilità e la propria immaginazione.>>
--
go easy... step lightly... stay free
--
Riot]
--
Поговорите со мной по-русски
--
I
Previous Page12345Next Page