Wednesday, March 30, 2011
I Still Bath My 9 Yr Old Son
Leonore drink wine in a glass, a cliche of life falls on the floor and breaks into pieces, each piece is a moment, a dream, breaking the silence in the room, forming words in the air, like a poem without verbs, like the Spotless Mind.
While the shadow of the curtains were moving slowly, she turned up to look at itself, I watched as he had changed, as the years laughed, - "Why do you laugh at me?" I ask them, they just smiled, while faded into obscurity until it was lost.
Friday, March 11, 2011
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Come on, now you need to link those thoughts, the tears did not help, just your thoughts distrocionan illusion creating a lack of time, remember that every breath you lose more blood, trying to contain the air and taste as you contemplate your pillow.
Can Cervical Erosion Stop Me Getting Pregnant?
Cut your veins with your hatred, look me in the eye and tell the truth, I had never thought that what was happening to me? The sky does not lie, the mind a thousand stories, I have been committing mental suicide, "yet they still want to continue watching me fall?
Let me rip the fingers, so maybe you'll realize that I do not mind losing a part of me, I hope you are desvanesca fake smile, I hope your soul is lost with your heart. Ojala
... hopefully you find what you're looking for, I already will find.
Sunday, March 6, 2011
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What are you looking? that word becomes an intangible, thoughts dissolve your soul, consuming your thoughts. That moment is the perfect time to jump that puddle, that little dirty water full of sediment that holds your life. Passes
that, no turning back, never look up maybe ... you maybe a little rain fall and take you into the current.
Friday, March 4, 2011
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is sad wake up and realize that everything in this life was only a dream, those moments when the sun burns our retinas, try to remember that was what we dreamed of, or at least rebuild the thought.
gradually lose my faith in humanity, no one wants to be responsible for the tragedies, or even want to see through the mirror, create immortal but really their minds are so weak that anyone who pretends to be guess they wash their little brains.
tear my eyes, and avoid the pain of seeing what everyone believes to be watching their fictional reality that disagrees with my thoughts, ideas become my nightmares, transforming my view, showing an alternate reality.
This life I can describe as a set of images, feelings, sounds, and thoughts, hopefully one day I can look through the mirror.