I scream .:. Ice cream: abril 2006

A cloud in trousers.

Your thoughts, dreaming on a softened brain, like an over-fed lackey on a greasy settee, with my heart´s bloody tatters I´ll mock again; impudent and caustic, I´ll jeer to superfluity. of Grandfatherly gentleness I´m devoid, there´s not a single grey hair in my soul! Thundering the world with the might of my voice, twenty-two-year-old. Gentle ones! You lay your love on a violin. The crudle lay their lov in a drum. but you can´t, like me, turn inside out entirely, and nothing but human lips become!

I scream .:. Ice cream

15 abr 2006

stereotype me

Malacüca

A cloud in trousers.

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