acidHUMANIX

A bad joke without lines Punch the air, hands collapse in desperate coma My eyes pinpoint out the illusion, a bad dream these ties A stale and ugly kiss Handsome ridges melt away the layers of waste, think prodding savior eating away at raw nerve flesh ... Self-medicating ghost of times past forgotten There is no dark pride in loneliness Escape those thick heads, denounce those addictions and memory fade What?s your pleasure, pistol or syringe? ...Watch those memories Or drop dead

Wednesday, August 5, 2009

pattern recognition

pentru ca avem nevoie de cineva care sa ne explice ce s-a intimplat cu noi

pentru ca totul trebuie facut cu raceala, cu un "poise"

pentru ca, odata pierdute, amintirile stralucesc nefiresc, ca gheata aruncata pe o bucata de pamint