artism is a thing that allows anybody to say anything that he want. that's why people are becoming hip. leave steering for a while in the pocket. you're somebody else. and only thing that you have are louses. sucking...
searching for some fuck. look around, look. everybody knows that you're out. quick, get in. no. i've never heard it. without a cause. any of cause makes that case could open. or. maybe there's no one. you can drink cider if you have money.
simple. simplicity is a city of many hands. you've got some game, you're playing. highs usually are boring. ace. place is your realm, seat is your bit. little chunky, cause struggling. true. it's best position for being a little bit high than floor. but having proper place for pace your twos is still good. you've still got something in your hand. now you can imagine. some pretty ace.
end of dreaming. mamas and papas are lying in California and you've got some blessing from romance. take this fruit, loopy. now you've got a pair. fair played life, fair played.
last wish of perfection. many people... money, people. you can lie... if you've got people, you've got money. so, quick. let's get some fags. time is still killable. and you're able. any other wishes? you've got eight. big raise for that, that you can use it as a perfect mine. fine. you've got stability in your mind. and few fags in pocket. without any metaphore. no whores.
another brick. wall can hear everything that you're thinking it could hear. eeeeeeeeeeee. pause. poser's not going to heaven? i know no sound of this song. silence. no good. depeche sendead. you're watching the wall. nobody does. feeling the time? if you've got, look to your pocket. or fold. pure dynamism of matter. yes.
nobody knows how to wank in artistic way. nobody. no, body. you don't feel the rock. so listen. which song will be next? maybe you'll try something new? nephmeaow. like bad girl drum tu ru ru rum. uuuu baby it's a wild world. try to find a song with analyse. or try... elsewhere.
Dział dla pracowitych
Posty: 3 • Strona 1 z 1
"wracamy do tej samej pozycji. zaczynam bawić się jej włosami. ona zaczyna powoli ocierać się o moje ciało jak pieszczona kotka. mimo panującej nami deprechy, zaczynam czuć pewną smutną namiętność. mimowolnie mi staje, nie zrobiło to na niej jednak żadnego wrażenia. siedzimy tak i pijemy w milczeniu, żadne słowa nie są nam potrzebne. i tak nie dalibyśmy rady wyrazić wagi naszej straty tak, byśmy się zrozumieli. żadne z nas nie pragnie jednak zrozumienia, a ukojenia. ona znalazła je w moich ramionach, ja w jej włosach. czyję, że alkohol nie jest mi już potrzebny. piję go tylko z przyzwyczajenia. choć nie miałem kobiety od dawna cieszę się, że nie będziemy się pieprzyć. na pewno nie dziś."
\\two bottles of salty water
there's no feeling like this when first blow of strong wind punches a mug. it was hard to stand up from the bed, and any minute of that day seems to be worse and worse and. now i'm just behind the doors and i don't know what to do next. take a walk. i don't even have a dog to walk with him, so people passing by could not pay attention to me. density of mattery makes no difference. you could be big like Atlas, but when you're not flexy enough nobody will have a look. look, they're watching. i've always got too much or lack of attributes. blessed ignorance. and the dog that doesn't exist, cause in my company he'll definitely became an alcoholic. or, even better, dead. good dog
'but there's plenty of them on the shelves. even one named. world
'nevermind. classics are boring
a little bit of small talk in the same noon. know better things to do. riding the elephants. i should be an indian, then i'll have a coyotee. or an elephant. irrelevant.
dog, you want to drink something? of course, idiot. stop asking stupid questions. so, leading to next whisky bar. can't afford it, sucker. so, maybe a little shopping? and what they'll make when they'll see me? who? anybody. i'll just hide in the backpack. what an proper idea! don't bark. don't shake too hard.
on my eyesight there's a full of nothing. windy back is packing everything that i need. on my eyesight there's a full of nothing. quiet. as a steel. foggy. like in fucking cloud, and wind don't want to make nothing pure. pure alcohol. now i've got some plot. i don't know what the fuck i'm doing here. probably masturbating. i, i, i. fucking letter that shites on fucking world. and now i didn't even remember what i was just thinking about. i'm standing, but i'm moving. struggling. every face is strange for a stranger. i don't know why i'm asking so many questions, and i'm not even trying to look for any answer. swear, i have to close these cases. or i don't?
'dog, what's next?
'what you want to do?
'nothing on my mind. think dog
sound of sniffing
'best fucking idea i've ever heard.
'maybe some dirty dogess will be passing by
'and saying bye
'by her beauty
'only reason to describe nothing
'only reason to say anything
'i hate these numbers
'second meal still serving
'you know that it's not that easy
'you're affraid, dog?
'every fucking minute
'off my life
message from the bottle tastes as it should taste. i just need to be a sponge surface for sinking from the clouds. clouds are always doing. nothing.
'i don't need to be a dog
'there won't be a storm today.
'you're hiding something
'my side of ride...
'there will be no storm tomorrow.
'at least you've got something to make your mouth wet
'second blast will be for tomorrow
movie like vie. c'est la mood. under my hood there's a steel. i can knock and i'll hear metalic sound of foolness. there's nothing to think about.
'why do people believe?
'cause people don't know.