untitledgagging on the verbs want want want but a shower will exfoliate the feeling...untitled
lacking the protein to defend against restlessness. enough melodramatic self torture to almost be creative.
it seems to be that much beauty is fostered by misery. or at the very least, malcontent.
cough cough. bless you.
whatever could the cure for restlessness be?
house of sensorytock tick tollockick; ambre, vanilla, fleur de tobacco; the exquisite union of burnt caramel & grey sea salt; old black and whites ofhouse of sensory
burlesque queens; hand pressed paper bound in warm red leather- there is no atonement for such decadence.
the only hope is to indulge in these sins of the senses, to caress the clocks; lick the lotions; behold the bonbons; waft the wonton women; and hark to the hard bound books;
soon to be wound into a frenzy of devoutness, praying at the altar in the
dream feb 11 2008at night, it’s dark, running down a grassy hill with a young friend. the sky is dimly lit with bluish tinge at the horizons. tower lights and street lights cast an artificial and borrowed time look on the surroundings, on large green grassy hills, all of the grass is neatly trimmed, even the grass under fences. i’m running, trying to sneak to the shore, or whatever is behind all the powerhouses and fences.dream feb 11 2008
there’s tall chain link fence after fence as barrier, trying not to be caught while sneaking past i run and slide under the fence on the grass. my friend does the same but im faster. out of the corners of m
shotgun, she sungShotgun, she sung,shotgun, she sung
holding out the smoke,
to touch to feel to lust letting it roll from her fingertips rolling her tongue past my lips.
Into the spotlight of a flickarin streetlight- Shotgun, she sung,
the smoke- it stays, soaked in my hair- leaving me in a daze. we layed our bodies down- double parked, what a girl on hot cement, just to talk, to unfurl
ou
today's the day
Cool, we have the same haircut
--
[link]
that makes me sparkle inside.
--
You never see the bullet, never hear the shot, because as it tears through
your head and the jacket splits and the core blows the remains out the back,
the sound is still a few feet from your ears.
ppuuuullleeeeeeeeaaaaaase?!
--
You never see the bullet, never hear the shot, because as it tears through
your head and the jacket splits and the core blows the remains out the back,
the sound is still a few feet from your ears.
--
You never see the bullet, never hear the shot, because as it tears through
your head and the jacket splits and the core blows the remains out the back,
the sound is still a few feet from your ears.
Previous Page12Next Page