sexta-feira, maio 25, 2012

Blind me of joy

It's cold outside while I try to shut my eyes under a fucking headache and hot bath water. Lack of opinion does not seem to bother anymore. So fuck everything... with salty huge dildos. I'll stand up and dance. Dance alone, under true toxic city rain, and get sick, sick. Sick. Feel my own skin, taste my own kiss, and dance. Dance because I'm broke, because after all I miss him. Because I'm too "fat" for modeling and my doctor said my brain is bad. Because promissing to people I can't see is the only way I feel confident. Because I'm an undercover bitch. Because I can't go where I want to. Dance because somehow I can't feel bad for not beeing diferent. And if in the end life does not work, I'll just tear myself apart...  be universe fabric again, and perhaps become something else, someone else's problems, someone else's dreams. I just need to dance a little longer and reduce the intire world to this single spot of hapiness under my feet... 

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