seaside lettersone.i was never good at starting these thingstwo.did you know some flowersonly open at night?they must not be very afraidof the darki wish i could say the samethree.i can't light my candle anymore,maybe it's telling methat i should stop tryingi didn't really like that blisteron my thumb anywaysfour.i noticed that my veinswere the same color as the oceanand i made myself bleedmy veins lied and blood is red, not bluei guess i just thought i was differentfive.i wish you could read thesesix.i don't know how to write anymoreand i always knew this would happen sometime.but god why now?i still haven't figured out what i wanted to sayseven.this will be my last letter to youand i thought i'd let you knowthat i will never know what i wanted to sayi was never really good at ending these either
the nevergirlyou didn't believe in growingup or growing old with someonebecause you always confessed itwould be so much more magicalto stay young with them foreveryou had the map of neverlandbranded in your bones andsometimes i swear i could hearthose little lost boys howlingand running through your spinei cried the day you realizedpeter wasn't coming and thatyou would never learn how tofly but let's face it, stayingyoung was never apart of the planbut you found a way to notgrow up and i wish you hadn'tbecause now you are a shadow,never growing and leaving everynight just because something elsewasn't bright enough for you
she didn't believe in anything but cigarettesmy mother tells me notto cry over spilled milkbut it makes it so mucheasier to forget aboutthe bloody bird layingdead on the bathroom tile
we shouldn't be so afraid of deathi waited for death to wrap hisfrail hands around my neck andfeed me to the unknownbut he just took my hand, fingerslaced between my ownand smiled
wendy was the lucky onedrowned by somberin a sea of atramentalemotions."black as November,"my mother saidhe went peacefullyin his sleep, they wept17 is too youngfor the hands of deathbut death reached anywaysi knew why he kepthis window open inbelow zero temperaturesand let the cold inevery nighti wonder if his tearsfroze to his cheeks
i'm afraid i'm easy to forgetthis flower just hasn'tbloomed and yet you stillstick around waitingto see if it is just asbeautiful on the insidebut darling i'm only scaredthat when the day comesthat i bare my soulyou will see that it justwasn't what you werehoping for
safety pinsi found you sitting on the dustybed sheets poking holes in yoursofter-than-silk skin with arusty safety pin (you told methey were your favorite)i asked you why and you saidyou loved the way the starslooked and you were hoping thatmaybe you could be as beautiful as them
i love you because you existjust two little boysplaying with matches,they started a spark icould feel in thepit of my stomach and babyare tongues are like daggers;each time we kiss it'sa sword fight i can neverquite win but there's stillsomething beautiful about theway you call me princess.maybe it's because you makeit believable or maybe it'sthe way this wildfireis devouring my being,leaving nothing but a desirefor the way you hold me
asthmaand i remember the grounda supernova; ofdead lungs and oxygen wasted on meand i remember being scaredand i remember asking why becausewhen you're young answers come without a priceyou told me it was because he thoughti would be strong enough to live through itand i remember believing you but how could you be so wrong
lostto tell you the truth,i can't stop missing myself.
War.If someone tells you, "War is hell." They lie.There are no innocents in hell.
MemoryI Remember Her With A Storm on Her Eyes.
Alcohol, smoke and your perfumeI was standing and watching, among others,not on the front,as I learned my lesson from you; I'm weak.There a was a girl, challenging...Not for a moment I hesitated, just a few stepsand I took her dress off.She didn't get angry, but surprised...and maybe a little sad.You see I destroyed her magic in just a few seconds.After a few minutes, dressed, she was staring at me.She knew I was in love with a girl like her,but not her.Back to my four walls, alone in my bedroom,I close my eyes, a deep breathand I smell those nights,alcohol, smoke and your perfume.
About WallsIn human history,when a wall falls somewhere,then somewhere else,silently is growing another one.
Nothing But A PuppetI am nothing but a puppet,A thing that you control.A simple wooden toy,I do not have a soul.I am nothing but a puppet,Someone to do your bidding.Your demands from my body,Relentless, unforgiving.I am nothing but a puppet,Your fingers pull my strings.They pull in all directions,Twisting, tangling.I am nothing but a puppet,My strings down by my sides,Trailing closely right behind me,My eternally bounding ties.
bon appetitshe extracts her heartfrom her cavernous centerlike a no-good tooth.coughing, she serves it upon fine painted ceramics.he lifts his fork,spears the meat.chewing, jaw swaying,he samples a bite.then he frownsand spits intohisnapkin.
Once Upon A TimeOnce upon a time there was a girlAnd she lived.
In SanityI find myself in a world of white,This place it feels so pure.The Sun's rays are warm and brightI've never felt so sure.I explore the land and all its sights,I enjoy the world's grand tour.I wander around until the nightShows what it has in store.In the darkness, a speck of lightReveals a hidden door.I turn the handle and peer inside,A sight I can't endure.I turn to run, to escape my plight,I dare not to explore.But something inside catches my eye,I can't resist the lure.I awake to find myself tied tight,A voice tries to assure,"This one may finally fix you right,Maybe this is the cure."
The White QueenTell me, have you ever heardThe tragic tale of the White Queen?How long has it beenSince the ice cold kingdom lost her?Nobody knows, though forever still it snowsA sign that she still lives, no sign that her life froze.Yet she is missing, isn’t she?What about the King, how can he leave this matter be?He is no King, not without She who wears his matching ring.Without She there are only tears, without She there is only pain he cannot bear.Then, why does he not search?If she is so important to he, why give up on her?The White Queen is bound to noneEven if to him She was the one.He knows this, and that his time with Her was but a fleeting dreamFrom which only the kiss of death will end his anguish.Then love is ephemeral, yes?That is to be learned from this?Only the young would be so foolish,Only the young would not see that that is amiss.Love is eternal, in your heart, in your dreamsAnd forever in your memories, a part of you, always.Love is but a waste only whe
CrackeDAfter four years of isolation in the tower,It was only then that she realized how much he loves her.She heard the witch.It was not the mirror cracked.
Dream CriterionIf you can't fly on your dreams anymore,I'm sorry, but don't worry,you have simply grown up.If you can't build a little empire on your dreams,I'm totally sorry,you are a dead man walking.
There Is No Cheap Sex!You just don't pay directlyor even worse you don't pay with money.There is free sex!but it's hard to find it.
I Fucked Your Mind, SorryI'm Sorry I Loved You,I'm Sorry I Love You,but I'm a sick bastardthat cannot stay away from you.Nothing less,Nothing more,I cannot let it go,I will not harm you.What I'm Going Through, It's Not Your Fault.What You're Going Through, It's Not My Fault.The moment I was bittenby the crazy dog you hired,I realized that my crazy lovehas fucked your mind.It passed a long timesince then,but you can't recover.I'm Sorry I Loved You,I'm Sorry I Love You.
OverRiddenA moment of real passion overrides human existence.There is no past, no end.
Empty Coffee DreamYou know it, I like coffee, I'm addicted to coffee!How many times I have begged you to drink a coffee together?I know you would probably drink something else,but this doesn't really matter.How many times?Too many...So many that if it ever happens, nothing will be normal,as I was imagining this in the beginning.Even in my dream the picture is empty.My coffee is there, your drink is there,but there is no me, no you.
.in the nighttime you arebetter; moonlightembroiders yourskin and stitchesyou up with apurer love, untilthe morning comes,the sun runs histeeth through yourseams again, splitsyou open
hide and seekeveryone looks to the starsfor inspirationbut maybe if we focused moreon the grains of sandbeneath our feet we mightjust find something a littlemore original