Bright Tennessee girl pregnant at 19, got a wedding ring as red as the Marbs she smokes.
Eye beaten black, arms more bruised than a boxer Goddamn! You got the wrong end of the deal!
The eery feeling you are getting in your bones is provided by your discovery that even the devil watches television, pays bills, eats pills, and plays with sex toys. Can love save you from this situation little one?
It doesn't particularly bother me in any way that you have your knot tied with the devil, makes it easier for me to sell my soul on one or two reasonable occasions.
Just a little hard to talk to him when he's chugging on whisky and pumping cocaine through his nose.
I walk along the same road, would end up meeting him someday. See myself in a beaten black jacket chugging a bottle of tequila all my way down to hell.
sábado, 25 de abril de 2009
sexta-feira, 10 de abril de 2009
Daydream #1: Mermaids.
I slipped quietly into the Black Sea, where I drowned for hours and hours.
I awoke in a daze, at the bottom. My eyes as fragile as they may be what with being made for a human being could make out the figure of a woman tending to my insanity spells.
She leaned over and I could feel her fingers, soft as snow. They were followed by a voice most would saw was as sweet as the sea we were both in, but I found such comfort in them. She asked me: "What has life done to a boy as pretty as you?". I answered with a voice unusually calm for such a situation "Well miss, I was born with a heart strong as steel.. Unfortunately made weak by my experiences roaming the ground, so I decided I should try my luck down here in the sea."
She was beautiful, admired the sincerity in my words and had no problem in pointing out my qualities. It was nice having someone like that around. Someone who didn't find it strange that I wanted to be held at the bottom of the sea, someone who wouldn't mind my words, who wouldn't let me stray off with my nomadic ways, and would just follow my flow. We visited the warrior graveyards, where brave Nords fell to the depths and never saw their land again. They would tell me their stories, and most would point out how they missed being able to see the sun again. I was surprised at how poetic those men can be. But I suppose in this setting it'll turn anyones words into magic.
By this time, my eyes had already adapted to the sea and I had seen her for the first time correctly. She had yellow hair, which I found strange considering she didn't seem to ever leave the ocean. Once I asked, she explained that it was because before she was born her parents were drowned and fell to the bottom, upon seeing her the old god Poseidons daughters found her and refused to let her die. Since then she has been living in this area, never having left the sea.
All of this would have been beautiful, but I found myself waking up.
I awoke in a daze, at the bottom. My eyes as fragile as they may be what with being made for a human being could make out the figure of a woman tending to my insanity spells.
She leaned over and I could feel her fingers, soft as snow. They were followed by a voice most would saw was as sweet as the sea we were both in, but I found such comfort in them. She asked me: "What has life done to a boy as pretty as you?". I answered with a voice unusually calm for such a situation "Well miss, I was born with a heart strong as steel.. Unfortunately made weak by my experiences roaming the ground, so I decided I should try my luck down here in the sea."
She was beautiful, admired the sincerity in my words and had no problem in pointing out my qualities. It was nice having someone like that around. Someone who didn't find it strange that I wanted to be held at the bottom of the sea, someone who wouldn't mind my words, who wouldn't let me stray off with my nomadic ways, and would just follow my flow. We visited the warrior graveyards, where brave Nords fell to the depths and never saw their land again. They would tell me their stories, and most would point out how they missed being able to see the sun again. I was surprised at how poetic those men can be. But I suppose in this setting it'll turn anyones words into magic.
By this time, my eyes had already adapted to the sea and I had seen her for the first time correctly. She had yellow hair, which I found strange considering she didn't seem to ever leave the ocean. Once I asked, she explained that it was because before she was born her parents were drowned and fell to the bottom, upon seeing her the old god Poseidons daughters found her and refused to let her die. Since then she has been living in this area, never having left the sea.
All of this would have been beautiful, but I found myself waking up.
Cold Cold Cold.
A stranger in the horizon. Concrete jungles bare no smiles, often kids with serious faces. Outside is harsh, frozen winds playing butcher with my face. So many beautiful women in this town, none with a happy face. Determined to go somewhere, determined to meet someone or get some mission accomplished. I have no place in particular that I must bravely march onto, just a hillside beyond this frozen wasteland. The weather in this place I call home paralyzed all that is my heart. It's stuck in time, still dancing with the temptress who stole it. But even Odysseus spent a few years under the rule of a deceiving beauty, it's fair.
I assume it is hard for us to cross this sea of lovers alone.
Darling you fill my heart with gunpowder and throw your matches at it. Another afternoon wasted in daydreams. The cold is like cocaine, it lights you up. Sit by the fire and sleep, or spend another night in the cold with the cigarrette ember guiding your way home. My fingertips feel some nervous warmth everytime an ideal girl passes by, but life doesn't work that way.
Assuming all actions have a consequence I would have had a chance to meet this girl had I not taken away 2 minutes from my journey to grab a cup of coffee, but even so I am far too timid.
Your face looks best in the afternoon, you make me so happy and you don't even know it.
There is beauty in loneliness, unfortunately I can't see it.
I want to fall in love, I do. But it's such a hard task. In the city love is a very difficult and beaurocratic process that takes attempt after attempt and legions of brave words corageous enough to understand they might not make it back home. It's because of the weather, I have a feeling.
I assume it is hard for us to cross this sea of lovers alone.
Darling you fill my heart with gunpowder and throw your matches at it. Another afternoon wasted in daydreams. The cold is like cocaine, it lights you up. Sit by the fire and sleep, or spend another night in the cold with the cigarrette ember guiding your way home. My fingertips feel some nervous warmth everytime an ideal girl passes by, but life doesn't work that way.
Assuming all actions have a consequence I would have had a chance to meet this girl had I not taken away 2 minutes from my journey to grab a cup of coffee, but even so I am far too timid.
Your face looks best in the afternoon, you make me so happy and you don't even know it.
There is beauty in loneliness, unfortunately I can't see it.
I want to fall in love, I do. But it's such a hard task. In the city love is a very difficult and beaurocratic process that takes attempt after attempt and legions of brave words corageous enough to understand they might not make it back home. It's because of the weather, I have a feeling.
domingo, 5 de abril de 2009
Anonymous Death Report
Grace was a girl I met in high school.
Long blonde hair and beady green eyes.
A somewhat enviable chest, if I were a girl i'd probably go about pointing that out.
Very correct, thats how I would describe her.
We maintained our friendship right up until this moment, I don't consider friendships with the dead. Nothing against them I just don't want them around me, might make life more uncomfortable than it already is that way.
Grace died of a cocaine overdose, the ambulance driver (his name was Adam in case you might be wondering) found her on a pile of empty beer and whisky bottles bleeding out the nose, by then Grace was bloating. Adam said the stench was so foul that he began to vomit, without realizing it he vomited on graces chest, it's quite rude I assume but considering i'm not Grace I can't answer for her now can I?
Upon autopsy (most annoying moment considering her mom kept crying through the whole damn thing) they found that due to her being shoeless during the time of death some rats managed to fancy her toes, which could be considered disgusting but that sounds like paradise if comparing to when they told us that due to the fact that she had no underwear some fruit flies decided to make a nest by her genitals (which by then were foul considering she had been left in this basement for over a week).
Pardon my giving details but I am a very detailed person when it comes to death, personally I care so little for the process that it's like explaining the weather really. You see, Grace wasn't always into parties and drugs. When I met her she was rather shy actually, didn't talk to many people. Her story is rather cliché, i'd rather not bore you with the details. If you want to know her life watch some typical Hollywood High School teen flick from the 90s.
Long blonde hair and beady green eyes.
A somewhat enviable chest, if I were a girl i'd probably go about pointing that out.
Very correct, thats how I would describe her.
We maintained our friendship right up until this moment, I don't consider friendships with the dead. Nothing against them I just don't want them around me, might make life more uncomfortable than it already is that way.
Grace died of a cocaine overdose, the ambulance driver (his name was Adam in case you might be wondering) found her on a pile of empty beer and whisky bottles bleeding out the nose, by then Grace was bloating. Adam said the stench was so foul that he began to vomit, without realizing it he vomited on graces chest, it's quite rude I assume but considering i'm not Grace I can't answer for her now can I?
Upon autopsy (most annoying moment considering her mom kept crying through the whole damn thing) they found that due to her being shoeless during the time of death some rats managed to fancy her toes, which could be considered disgusting but that sounds like paradise if comparing to when they told us that due to the fact that she had no underwear some fruit flies decided to make a nest by her genitals (which by then were foul considering she had been left in this basement for over a week).
Pardon my giving details but I am a very detailed person when it comes to death, personally I care so little for the process that it's like explaining the weather really. You see, Grace wasn't always into parties and drugs. When I met her she was rather shy actually, didn't talk to many people. Her story is rather cliché, i'd rather not bore you with the details. If you want to know her life watch some typical Hollywood High School teen flick from the 90s.
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