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Description
Feel for once how I want to. Forget all the pitiful reason to give in. Remeber the days that gave hope and a liht at the end of the tunnel. Watch your friends drop like flies. Hand on the windwo. Eyes on the mannequin. Voice on the button. Everythings intact. When all you want to do is scream. Recall the time you smiled. Recall the times that you felt so much worse. And how we got through it. Picture in your head all the lovlies you've had. Replace them with colours. Rainbows hurt less. Jewlery is nothing but decoration. I love looking like a christmas tree in the middle of July. Backwards numberation in a room full of people who don't get it. What to do when you get bored. Noise invades a picture. Overtake inside my head all my previous thoughts. Thursday nights slash friday mornings at 2:53 with a sore hand and a voice that needs loud. Afraid of confiscation. Eyes don't belong inside these pages. Televisions with noisy picture reminds me of the olden days. The fact of the matter is my handwritting is terrible. And if you eyes are not on original pages then you have no idea. The chances of my thoughts comming true is a million to one and I want nothing more then you. With this taste and that sound you should be here. De-code that.

Nintey-Three(minutes)
Bad decisions mix with queer emotions. Missing something stolen from the silk. Taken in the downfall of the telephone. Overview magazine ads let them be your guide. No more it says with eyes all beady and hands all sweaty. I can leave you in this state too. The state I am constantly living in. Unable to drown it out but you make it comfortable to dream and breath. Forty-four hours are what I own. Fourty-two if we are technical. Felines are hungry. My heart is wandering around inside my cheats. Three years past and this is where I ended up. Happy if not stuck. Pen in one hand paint brush in the other. Never smiling but always excited. Cannot comprehend your take on takcs. Your everlasting latch on jewlery. Inability to spell correctly with goggles on. To Niagra Falls where the air tastes like meatballs. Pure white drawing paper tends to invite unwanted members of your side of the family. Stamp it to your mansion and open what has been forwarded from a lady who claims to be your daughter. Seems to be her work along side her tears. Back to primary sources of hapiness. Foolish female doesn't realize he is everything she wants. One month later she seems to fall into the hole inside his head. Cannot wait for that clock to hit alone. Back in the place we have come to adore more then all the V10's. Cut off the years that made me doubt and laugh. Add a hint of refined that only makes me want you. Started to lose it. Afraid I wouldn't gain it. Crushed uinderneath your cup. All nighters with a morning full of kisses. She will never understand. Appear at your wake suprise me with the news. You aren't dead. After years of facisnation with something from a script you wake up and come to a conclusion that the sun doesn't hurt as much as grey and other colours that sure did follow. The title of your Thom foolery is blankets in orange in plaid. A delightful combination of lumberjacks and feminists. Extremists in the subtleist of ways. Pretend your illiterate so we get in for gree. I already know your favortie song. It's on repeat in my brain stem. Not even thinking, not even looking. I am not even writing this. Nothing but a dream could make this reality so diluted. Big vs small is my biggest problem in life. Ultra violet lights in a pitch black room full of aquariums. Glowing octupusses stare as I turn the corner left. Don't come back. Nothing scares me as bad. Nothing but the rythm of running wolves and children. Five times is lucky but the next shows natural selevtion. Fingertips are numb uin the burning sort of way. The result of pages covered in inl. No problems here. Talk of drug dealers and peekers. I don't know if this conversation goes any further then 4AM on this morning. All I wanted was some food from the man. But if you don't pay attention you don't get what you want. Jelous of something that claimed not to be yours. But the heartbeat fireplace seven o'clock teachings and snack dignifies my answer. Do we pick up the phone and go back to last October? Do I let myself fall and lose what I don't eve have. I doubt this is a good plan and all I can think is blue, bedouin soundclash and game layouts. Jeys around my neck. Spirals swarm around my finger and I love the sound of beauty on a wednesday. As I am sure the light will appear soon I cannot even imagine what tomorrow will bring.

Description
Feel for once how I want to. Forget all the pitiful reason to give in. Remeber the days that gave hope and a liht at the end of the tunnel. Watch your friends drop like flies. Hand on the windwo. Eyes on the mannequin. Voice on the button. Everythings intact. When all you want to do is scream. Recall the time you smiled. Recall the times that you felt so much worse. And how we got through it. Picture in your head all the lovlies you've had. Replace them with colours. Rainbows hurt less. Jewlery is nothing but decoration. I love looking like a christmas tree in the middle of July. Backwards numberation in a room full of people who don't get it. What to do when you get bored. Noise invades a picture. Overtake inside my head all my previous thoughts. Thursday nights slash friday mornings at 2:53 with a sore hand and a voice that needs loud. Afraid of confiscation. Eyes don't belong inside these pages. Televisions with noisy picture reminds me of the olden days. The fact of the matter is my handwritting is terrible. And if you eyes are not on original pages then you have no idea. The chances of my thoughts comming true is a million to one and I want nothing more then you. With this taste and that sound you should be here. De-code that.

Nintey-Three(minutes)
Bad decisions mix with queer emotions. Missing something stolen from the silk. Taken in the downfall of the telephone. Overview magazine ads let them be your guide. No more it says with eyes all beady and hands all sweaty. I can leave you in this state too. The state I am constantly living in. Unable to drown it out but you make it comfortable to dream and breath. Forty-four hours are what I own. Fourty-two if we are technical. Felines are hungry. My heart is wandering around inside my cheats. Three years past and this is where I ended up. Happy if not stuck. Pen in one hand paint brush in the other. Never smiling but always excited. Cannot comprehend your take on takcs. Your everlasting latch on jewlery. Inability to spell correctly with goggles on. To Niagra Falls where the air tastes like meatballs. Pure white drawing paper tends to invite unwanted members of your side of the family. Stamp it to your mansion and open what has been forwarded from a lady who claims to be your daughter. Seems to be her work along side her tears. Back to primary sources of hapiness. Foolish female doesn't realize he is everything she wants. One month later she seems to fall into the hole inside his head. Cannot wait for that clock to hit alone. Back in the place we have come to adore more then all the V10's. Cut off the years that made me doubt and laugh. Add a hint of refined that only makes me want you. Started to lose it. Afraid I wouldn't gain it. Crushed uinderneath your cup. All nighters with a morning full of kisses. She will never understand. Appear at your wake suprise me with the news. You aren't dead. After years of facisnation with something from a script you wake up and come to a conclusion that the sun doesn't hurt as much as grey and other colours that sure did follow. The title of your Thom foolery is blankets in orange in plaid. A delightful combination of lumberjacks and feminists. Extremists in the subtleist of ways. Pretend your illiterate so we get in for gree. I already know your favortie song. It's on repeat in my brain stem. Not even thinking, not even looking. I am not even writing this. Nothing but a dream could make this reality so diluted. Big vs small is my biggest problem in life. Ultra violet lights in a pitch black room full of aquariums. Glowing octupusses stare as I turn the corner left. Don't come back. Nothing scares me as bad. Nothing but the rythm of running wolves and children. Five times is lucky but the next shows natural selevtion. Fingertips are numb uin the burning sort of way. The result of pages covered in inl. No problems here. Talk of drug dealers and peekers. I don't know if this conversation goes any further then 4AM on this morning. All I wanted was some food from the man. But if you don't pay attention you don't get what you want. Jelous of something that claimed not to be yours. But the heartbeat fireplace seven o'clock teachings and snack dignifies my answer. Do we pick up the phone and go back to last October? Do I let myself fall and lose what I don't eve have. I doubt this is a good plan and all I can think is blue, bedouin soundclash and game layouts. Jeys around my neck. Spirals swarm around my finger and I love the sound of beauty on a wednesday. As I am sure the light will appear soon I cannot even imagine what tomorrow will bring.