//unconscious mutterings I
Bookends:: scissors intoxicated with librarian's hairnet, watching kids tiptoe around the silenced room.
Compliment:: is given when conversation is scarce and you want an easy friend.
Gutter:: i ran over a gutter girl once...
Obsession:: of candy colored knives and sparkling blades, i obsess about nothing else but to see the rich color of blood ooze out from under pale skin.
Heavy:: the clouds are heavy with despair as it rolls over my head, wetting me with thunderstorms and big angry rain.
Real:: what is real? is it the pulse of a broken heart soon to die, or of a silence long forgotten in the mouths of crows?
Disposable:: now everything is disposable, and replacable.
Breeze:: i can think clearly with the breeze grazing my cheek as if to caress me into sleeping and dreaming again...
Work:: and no play...
Sweetheart:: mine is not sweet, it never was. the closest it has come is bittersweet. about 70% of it was bitter and 30% sweet, as sweet as the water that pours down from the skies.
"we watch backward movies and live a backwards life, for now." -