Mount And Blade No Cd

In The Attic deconstructs My Body

The house of cards that was built, it disarmed today. That house that eventually became the castle, today loses its meaning, and becomes less mine. So it is with everything lately, I know .

I reached a path that has no where to go, an alley that has no outlet , a blind street where I interned and I realized that was not. Today I follow the return to a stable point. Today back, me back where I walked once, just to get where continue later. I wasted

time, really not lost anything ... won just won, I won many things, including days and nights, people and experiences, filled spaces, but are now empty, and I follow a different path. I try to undo to clear and collect, to delete and start over . So every little piece is removed, and then be re-located and work life, so does my soul. seem a mess but it is not. is like a puzzle that seems to be backwards , that fits and fits without much stress.

Piece by piece deconstruct what I did once, no regrets pick my stuff, you vanish from them. Me Disappear, disappear time. I go, I lose. It's time to build my castle again - elsewhere - that refuge where no one can enter, that blank , that neutral place, full of very quiet . Disarm

what I was, to begin again ... With hammers and tools, screws and destroyed bag nuts, step by step, little by little without planes without lights, dark and silent , harmony again my body. Piece by piece, placed in their new place every migajita of my being, every bit of what I am , every feeling , every word, every sentence . Changes

evolve my being, I know continued to grow. And now live at the wrong where I try simply, it is only over time, where my body deconstruct.

1:20 a.m.
04/29/2008
Barqto - Vzla

Pd: Image taken from http://sentimientosdeunloco.blogspot.com/

Gator Bar Washington Dc

speak with mirrors, but I say nothing, I ask about me, but do not know what to say ... Only I can listen to the echoes of my own thoughts. My skin is literally burning, and under my nails are just waste, waste from many past lives. The heat will kill us, and I want my air or cool. My hair is between my fingers, and start to feel a void in my skull. Naked and sweaty, wanting to make it clear that beyond that door there is nothing.

from scratching my skin, I started to feel my bones that have been eaten away by hungry mice. The heat comes from inside me and mixed with the heat outside, and I want to remove one by one each part of my body, be completely stripped, no meat, skinless, boneless. I can not stand as hell, and do not understand if after all I've been so good. I do not want no hugs, no love, I love samples affect the senses. A vapor is introduced into my body undoing what's inside, melting all without leaving traces, pity that my soul is immune, and all that remains is nothing left, everything was no one remembers, everything I said nothing makes sense, and yet all that is still mine.

From what little warmth I felt, I no longer feel what you used to feel, but keep looking to look at you looking, trying to hide what ever made me think. Well, now there are only memories and more memories, confusion, trying to become consistent, but as I try very hard to be. Gas masks appear to cover what you do not want to show, no gas masks for the smell rotten society. Millions of gas masks to not smell the shit of the nation that served to mislead us.

Plush Bears pounded with anger, innocence, absorbed leaving no traces of life, warmth that creeps into your being and makes you show your instincts ... Everything is diluted with water gushing through the pores, everything fades, it dies, it goes, with the river of life is dead.

Stains on sheets, dirty dishes, garbage piles up, the house is dirty. All precipitates less rain, the room is closed, the air is running out, I'm choking on one, I keep thinking but not thinking about anything, meaningless phrases begin to hear, "Let me be," "Let me be" "Let me" "Leave it", there's no escape I'm coming ...

Please get me out of here ... The heat will not let me live, and when at last I can think only think of the blessed solitude, which never can be assembled in the lies he told me without much thought, knowing full well that I die my life living death.

04/22/2008 11:50 pm


Barquisimeto - Vzla

How To Make A Homemade Surround System?

Living Death be right (Consistency was never the best option)

Fifth time lucky I hope, as so many failed attempts to increase the heat of the aisle. Everything is so quiet, and solitude note with each breath. A slight breeze, million dirty walls, some broken glass, some from open doors, bins full. Occasionally the odd person breaks silence, marking each step an echo that extends all over the place. To combat boredom, a sad song, hummed with patience, dirty hair covers her face which wants to see a real figure, and the beat of a heart is accelerated when the close breath of another it seems, but in the end it is ... FALSE ALARM ... "It's not easy, i know" , a motto chosen to use, so I recrimination over the failure that can happen.

Tic-Tac, time flies ... Tic - Tac, the clock sounds. Tic - Tac is time to remain engrossed ... Tic - Tic - Tic - Tic - Tic goes into every fiber of my tiny little brain, Tac - Tac - Tac - Tac - Tac sound of hammers falling on my bones . Ring, ring, rings, and I can not to hear, the wind becomes stronger, and the sounds are drowned. BUM, sounds muffled shot a silent weapon, which no doubt ends dry with many things that had lost its meaning, not only the end , the end with three dots a continue doubtful.

Maybe I'm too Ato, maybe I'm too shy ... Toc, toc someone wants to enter, but that door will not happen. Looking for a symbol of peace, mental stimulation. A direction that laughter is closed and the situation cleared be immune to anything . Drugged

so crap ... My senses are hurt, the smell intensified, so much misery together, which can not fail to be a part. The sad sound of a broken record repeating to lose meaning, while my bottle of water but not just my drought. The beating of a drum above the reach of a question would not listen ("Do you still love me?!") , it is very difficult to ignore a "Maybe declaring itself a of something not will never, apart from that everything's great ... My little expressiveness increases, but not why I stopped feeling. Psychedelic

lost in a lot of scribbling in a notebook lines. Shakes my head buried in a noise of songs that are quite right "SHUT IT UP" , Mindless Self Indulgence is responsible, screams of pain GUIIIIU GUIIIIIU siren sounds, I was never good with onomatopoeia, screams of pain , everything begins to change color , consistency was never the best option , therefore I hate waking up every morning.

is very clear, and the indescribable sound of a nightingale, the easier it is to simulate a chick Pio, pio, pio. In odd to end this once. is my constant my constant damn, would not be able to say sorry it would not be able to face the pressure of any situation, the final are my thoughts and nobody said should be correct.

02/04/1908 6:00 pm

Barqto - Vzla