

You're a little like...Yeah, I used to look at you through those rose tinted-glasses. I saw something perfect and wonderful and true, then I came around to see that none of it was really you.You're a little like...
You know, you're a little like a mangina. Your outward appearance isn't what's really there. You're a dick - but could get away with being a cunt too.
I'll never know what they see in you.
But I do solemnly swear, that I don't give a fuck. I just want you to know that you're shit out of luck.
There was nothing that I wouldn't do.
P.S Just so you know, I'm neve


--Prose-- Marrionettes... Marrionettes and Débutantes--Prose-- Marrionettes...
Sunday December 15th 1918
In front of the fire on this winters eve. Wine and music. The night is young. It reminds me of her. My beautiful Mariposa. She would always sing to me "Si Tu Veux Marguerite" but now, it has been silent for years. Her father came to see me last night he is still heart-broken. I feel sympathy for him, so much sympathy. My beautiful Mariposa... why? I let him enter and offered him comfort and someone to talk to, but his eyes ran what seemed to be never ending rivers of tears. He cried into his handkerchief, cried into the night until mornin


I'll keep it inside.In my mind I'm so fluent in this language, the words just slide and escape from my lips like a second sense to breathing. I write the script and watch it all play out, and it goes a little something like this:I'll keep it inside.
I love the dimples in your cheeks when you smile. I love the way you look at me, then turn away like you're in denial.
I know what you're thinking my darling, why hide it? Why make me guess? I'll carry on.
I love the way you brush your hair from your eyes. I love the way you act so different, you're so different to all these guys. &n


DisenchantmentThere is a place away from here where escapism is a religion. The houses are somewhat alive but with the unknowing sounds of silence.Disenchantment
The dreamers dream where the sleepers sleep, Where the followers pray their souls away, for him to keep. Others exhaust themselves with worries and fears but those lost in tales well, they're barely here.
If we take a step back and look again, we wake up and see who they really are. This is the place where the escapists dwell, honestly, it's not very far.
| Oh The randomness!!! |

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JDT
My Blog
Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen. -Heb. 11:1
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私はあなたを愛し、そして睡眠...
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Probably half asleep right now.
[[ ~piffity-puff es mi esposa querida. ]]
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To small to matter.
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