I kill. I kill it all, the day, the motion, the felling, i’m the killer. I dry it on the ledge of my drenched heart, I forsake it to the bottom of my tired tear ducts. I mourn. I mourn amazing and so much loved days like they are dead, instead of remembering them as memories, just simple beautiful times spent with my heart open. I am thirsty for simple, casual life. Life as it passed. Now i’m feeding my hungry core with something drawn from the abyss of time I almost forgot. Can’t bring it back, wish I could. Some day these will all be songs. Mine is a black scorched heart.
Să stingem lumina pe stradă. Ne mai rămâne să plecăm. Să stingem
iubirea pe capete. Aşa ceva n-ar trebui să existe în dicţionarul unui
copil de 2ouă’j-ceva de ani…So let’s murder it. Let’s plan. Let’s
turn to points well forgotten. Childhood, Highschool, College.
Now let’s Format C: it all.
Sper sa ningă peste toate mizeriile verii, cât mai curând.