Cirque Du Soleil
what truth do i tell?
spirits plug the barrel.. our weapons hardly speak.
fear in our eyes. behind our fingers.. monsters peak.
our choices hold secrets.. see faces flushed with fear.
collapse old and young. buried alive are these 'dear'....
i'm trying.... maybe i'm just tired.
today for the thousand..th hour in my life i fall inlove with Poe again. This man inspires darkness to dim its light.
that's me. dawknezzzz.
i love to thrift shop. if you're looking for another man's... junk? thrift shop. i found the following:
Friendship and Literature by Ronald A. Sharp
The Making of a Philosopher by Colin Mcginn
and ta da!
The Unabridged Poe. now look, this book i had before. but someone stole it from me. as if they could read Poe better than me. the fool i pity!
every time i reach down into my frame i picture those sneaky lil hands flipping through the pages of my book. neglecting the splendor. i cringe!!
i'm gonna spend my lifeless weekends kicked back reading my books. my excuse? i don't need one. i'm koo-lye-dat.
i'm going boyfriend hunting tomorrow. i wont stop the hunt until i catch me a prize. a jin-u-wine fine prime rib. juicy! i'm about to create me a real live relationship so that i can fuck fuck and fuck some more. because we all know how tacky it is to relate off the ship. in my world anyway.
my vibrate broke. that is a fucking true life shame. he digs in but he just dont shake. that's why i wasted 10 fucking dollars on a batt+charger just to wear the mofo out. some shit. quietly, i'm always afraid lil V. is gonna get too wet and i'm gonna get fried. i knooow. that's stupid as hell. it just doesn't add up to anything. but that's me. 2 plus 2 minus 4. nada.
i shouldnt even have to search for a man. i'm iight righ righ? boyfriends should just fall in my hands out of the sky.
i'm suffering from this shit where people think i'm stuckup, clueless, and queer. i am kinda queer. but besides that... i just want some sex.
i have been this horny before. it'll pass. but then it'll return. if i were a guy i could just go on jack off, wash my hands, and go on about my day like nothing even happened.
crazy talk.
no. i am so lonely. i'm about to get sappy. i am really lonely. not because i dont have friends. i have them. they're strange. i'm not lonely because i'm single. people always claim they get you but they're liars. they dont know what the hell is going on in your head. they should stop. it's ok to not know. don't fucking pretend that you like what i'm about. because in reality i aint about shit. who is? i spend 75% of my time fighting with myself. and that's ok. i'm confident. i love art: photography, dance, music, literature. allathatshit. that's my 25. i'm a lonely motherfucker because my 75 is sleeping on my 25. hello? you feel me? i'm a young talented mofo and aint did shit about it. i'm dancing for attention infront of the mirror like DAMN GIRL HELLO!
HELL FUCKIN O!
i don't come across very so much as a church girl. God help me. i'm a sunday school teacher for petesakes.
and i have MUST share these lyrics with you. i LOVE this song.
Ten thousand men sleep down with Davy Jones;
with stolen treasure they tithe.
The open water chills me to my bones,
but it's the only place that I feel alive.
The ocean floor begins to disappear;
I sense that terrible depth.
The open water is my only fear,
but I'll sail as long as I still have breath in me.
I'm starting to believe the ocean's much like you,
cause it gives, and it takes away.
Between the devil and the deep blue sea,
I stare into the abyss.
The open water is an awful thing,
but I'm anxious till the anchor is aweigh.
I'm starting to believe the ocean's much like you,
cause it gives, and it takes away.
I'm starting to believe the ocean's much like you,
cause it gives, and it takes away.
I'm starting to believe the ocean's much like you,
cause it gives, and it takes away.
Thrice. open water.
spirits plug the barrel.. our weapons hardly speak.
fear in our eyes. behind our fingers.. monsters peak.
our choices hold secrets.. see faces flushed with fear.
collapse old and young. buried alive are these 'dear'....
i'm trying.... maybe i'm just tired.
today for the thousand..th hour in my life i fall inlove with Poe again. This man inspires darkness to dim its light.
that's me. dawknezzzz.
i love to thrift shop. if you're looking for another man's... junk? thrift shop. i found the following:
Friendship and Literature by Ronald A. Sharp
The Making of a Philosopher by Colin Mcginn
and ta da!
The Unabridged Poe. now look, this book i had before. but someone stole it from me. as if they could read Poe better than me. the fool i pity!
every time i reach down into my frame i picture those sneaky lil hands flipping through the pages of my book. neglecting the splendor. i cringe!!
i'm gonna spend my lifeless weekends kicked back reading my books. my excuse? i don't need one. i'm koo-lye-dat.
i'm going boyfriend hunting tomorrow. i wont stop the hunt until i catch me a prize. a jin-u-wine fine prime rib. juicy! i'm about to create me a real live relationship so that i can fuck fuck and fuck some more. because we all know how tacky it is to relate off the ship. in my world anyway.
my vibrate broke. that is a fucking true life shame. he digs in but he just dont shake. that's why i wasted 10 fucking dollars on a batt+charger just to wear the mofo out. some shit. quietly, i'm always afraid lil V. is gonna get too wet and i'm gonna get fried. i knooow. that's stupid as hell. it just doesn't add up to anything. but that's me. 2 plus 2 minus 4. nada.
i shouldnt even have to search for a man. i'm iight righ righ? boyfriends should just fall in my hands out of the sky.
i'm suffering from this shit where people think i'm stuckup, clueless, and queer. i am kinda queer. but besides that... i just want some sex.
i have been this horny before. it'll pass. but then it'll return. if i were a guy i could just go on jack off, wash my hands, and go on about my day like nothing even happened.
crazy talk.
no. i am so lonely. i'm about to get sappy. i am really lonely. not because i dont have friends. i have them. they're strange. i'm not lonely because i'm single. people always claim they get you but they're liars. they dont know what the hell is going on in your head. they should stop. it's ok to not know. don't fucking pretend that you like what i'm about. because in reality i aint about shit. who is? i spend 75% of my time fighting with myself. and that's ok. i'm confident. i love art: photography, dance, music, literature. allathatshit. that's my 25. i'm a lonely motherfucker because my 75 is sleeping on my 25. hello? you feel me? i'm a young talented mofo and aint did shit about it. i'm dancing for attention infront of the mirror like DAMN GIRL HELLO!
HELL FUCKIN O!
i don't come across very so much as a church girl. God help me. i'm a sunday school teacher for petesakes.
and i have MUST share these lyrics with you. i LOVE this song.
Ten thousand men sleep down with Davy Jones;
with stolen treasure they tithe.
The open water chills me to my bones,
but it's the only place that I feel alive.
The ocean floor begins to disappear;
I sense that terrible depth.
The open water is my only fear,
but I'll sail as long as I still have breath in me.
I'm starting to believe the ocean's much like you,
cause it gives, and it takes away.
Between the devil and the deep blue sea,
I stare into the abyss.
The open water is an awful thing,
but I'm anxious till the anchor is aweigh.
I'm starting to believe the ocean's much like you,
cause it gives, and it takes away.
I'm starting to believe the ocean's much like you,
cause it gives, and it takes away.
I'm starting to believe the ocean's much like you,
cause it gives, and it takes away.
Thrice. open water.