Dankbarkeit
Weave the threads of deceit and bind your feet, beauty lies within the crust of the earth, and all that we want to believe shall perish. Let the games begin.
No thought makes sense, everything is durcheinander, my thoughts по-русски and auf Deutsch, no rhyme nor reason lies on the road waiting for the smokestacks to quake and the little silver-haired lady to finish basting the turkey. Flannel sheets feel like home, but my heart lies elsewhere, guarded by the Ghost of Christmas Past in Isenstedt or by the Ghost of Christmas Present in Chapel Hill or by the Ghost of Christmas Future в москве. я не знаю. I'm sorry to those I've hurt. I'm tired of my brain feeling like jello from too much math homework. I just want to traipse through Europe picking up languages, headcolds, and excess pounds from too much chocolate.
Nothing makes sense. It probably never did.
No thought makes sense, everything is durcheinander, my thoughts по-русски and auf Deutsch, no rhyme nor reason lies on the road waiting for the smokestacks to quake and the little silver-haired lady to finish basting the turkey. Flannel sheets feel like home, but my heart lies elsewhere, guarded by the Ghost of Christmas Past in Isenstedt or by the Ghost of Christmas Present in Chapel Hill or by the Ghost of Christmas Future в москве. я не знаю. I'm sorry to those I've hurt. I'm tired of my brain feeling like jello from too much math homework. I just want to traipse through Europe picking up languages, headcolds, and excess pounds from too much chocolate.
Nothing makes sense. It probably never did.