A dream. A romance. A love. In Words.
I think you prefer when the world "together" means not "a million," but just two.
I was one of the insatiables. The ones you'd always find sitting closest to the screen. Why do we sit so close? Maybe it was because we wanted to receive the images first. When they were still new, still fresh. Before they cleared the hurdles of the rows behind us. Before they'd been relayed back from row to row, spectator to spectator; until worn out, secondhand, the size of a postage stamp, it returned to the projectionist's cabin. Maybe, too, the screen was really a screen. It screened us... from the world.
Gratis bloggen bei
Complex, fucked up world ...
The world is fucked up.
I can't take it anymore
to be fucked over and over again
by those who pretend to love me.
Who pretend to care,
while they are ripping apart my heart and soul,
breach the border to my very deepest feelings
and then throw them and me away
I don't wanna be fucked anymore with this
This hypocritical care.
Let me go, I have to get away.
I'm under your spell, let me out.
I'm fucked and left with it. Fucker.
bisher 0 Kommentar(e)