Stardust.
residues of explosives. Morning with memories of a vent and cry a fake happiness. Have you looked at my tears fall, without saying anything, and this is enough for me.
Cover pain with wrapping paper. The thought that maybe we will not be what we are now and the future, between now and April, will be a glittering carousel before going to sleep.
scarves and warm sweaters. We are simple people, and even the carousels and perhaps we do not like that much. It 'been a trail of events presented us with indefinable in that room, to live together in mid-day, night is not included. But that's not the port, only a way station. Where watching the burning of incense, patchouli along with your personal pain. Very decent, but dense.
And speaking of morphine I am really want to experience the effects, or toxic or sick, or come at the end of the world. I would get lost in visions that lead me away or feel light as if my lungs worked helium. Or maybe this bright Christmas lights and squalor gold card is nothing more than a seasonal version of these visions and I'm already playing and I do not know. If all will not want to be here watching the end. I know, is my limit, I can not tolerate and related purposes. Then after many years as I remove the stupid lego towers, makes clear and as we look through colored lenses. Years later, the pain of this becomes hardened and indefinite impression that you would not know more traceable to an owner. The pain of this is a monster to manage, for which I am always surprise of equipment and I wonder, what price will have a built happiness? It 's true that happiness is always built and always has a price? Yet, I know how to do just that, these stupid small buildings that make me feel alive and tangentially anchored some report. A small and silly life, a small and stupid person. It is enough.
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