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.
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
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