

anemonethe rain falls gently upon the flowing grass blown apart by the dancing wind you take a deep breath breathing in the scent of soil which meets the ice sheets birds gather to the sky, embracing light touches of softly sun kissed rays, flickering through the grey rolls of mist i remember the time when you laughed taken from your bench by the pounding wind then only to smile graciously in the sweeping grass the world was in a dreaming state i was swept up in your arms slowly the tears began to fall quite silently your air kiss began to flow through the wind that day yoanemone


a est pour l'acideHoping for a new religion Wishing the way out of bed There's just never been a perfect moment To say what you really mean, is there? I don't understand my own urgency Time comes around, then it goes again All to come back and start at the beginning Always meant to happen but only at randoma est pour l'acide
You're my new best friend You're my new protégé You're a new feeling, a new sight A new smell, a new high I take the left road, ignore the caution signs I need you,
I tell my friends goodbye
I don't want to build my own fate anymore I don't even wa


Embolalia -Yume-Embolalia ~Yume~Embolalia -Yume-
a house on a hill, old and wise
overlooking a foaming white sea has stood the test of time dandelions move playfully dancing in an open field fenced from the outside world a dear child prays for a forgotten mother an abusive father's hands stained red his little girl in a flowing white dress stands on the edge of the drop clutching her fabric doll loosely in her hand when will the tears cease to fall? her expression inside begins to weaken as the wind blows through her hair
forcing the moisture to dry from her face her min
Been a whiiiiiiiiile, eh?
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SIN IS LIKE INK. It bleeds into a person, coloring, making you someone other than you used to be. And it's indelible. Try as much as you want, you cannot get yourself back.
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art is dead...
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sun child, youre a sun child
awoken by the spirit of the day... will I grow wild speaking so mild
forgot about the engine in the rain
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Who died and made you Keats? You get a cookie if you figure out the joke!
Moving to a new city!
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"If love is blind, why can I still see myself in the mirror?"
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"Men of broader intellect know that there is no sharp distinction betwixt the real and the unreal..."
--HP Lovecraft--
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