Aw Fallonlee, my little dew-drop daydream, my misty kisses and early morning fog. My reason for yesterday and my hope for tomorrow. My starlight and champagne, my lotus and my passionflower. What would my day to day existance be without you?
...A pile of unwashed clothes, the scattered fading wisps of childhood hopes, the face-smacking slaps of ugly reality.
Your absence sends me into tailspins, vortexes of breath, swimming blurs of faded moments and unrealized wishes, empty outstretched hands, moth-eaten memories, husks of wishes and dry shells of locusts. You are my shiny beetle, my chest pressing hope, my everyday longing, my never-ending hope of a better existence.
life goes on.
i'm going to consider this girl a practice run. i'm not going to get drunk, or mope.i just don't see the point. besides, i already had dinner with someone new tonight.
i broke it off today.
it hurt, of course.
the worst thing you can do in the world is to pretend to care about someone.
it's cruelty for amusement.
it's petty, and stupid.
have five minutes before bed. soooo tired. sweet and silly kisses, half hearted insults, nick names, inside jokes,laughing at four a.m. she's just everything you need for a perfect day.i forgot how good this coud feel.
Hi my sweet Fallonlee. I am so glad that you are having some love and i'd glad that you are back on the site.
I missed you when you are gone. Tell me all about everything.
falling down.
littlle ink lines.
drama.
purpose.
all tangled together.
if god is the tooth fairy for adults, where do the ageless children belong?
how de we go home?
I hear you about the Smiths kick. You have to keep them around though, there will always be occasions when you have enough pain to make a shy, bald, Buddist reflect and plan a mass murder.
I can sum up the new Beasties like this: it sounds more like current rap than the Beasties interrpretation of rap. Know what I am saying?
I will have fun and drinks, the sex-I very much doubt!
bb
...A pile of unwashed clothes, the scattered fading wisps of childhood hopes, the face-smacking slaps of ugly reality.
Your absence sends me into tailspins, vortexes of breath, swimming blurs of faded moments and unrealized wishes, empty outstretched hands, moth-eaten memories, husks of wishes and dry shells of locusts. You are my shiny beetle, my chest pressing hope, my everyday longing, my never-ending hope of a better existence.
I miss you.
...Your little drunken poet,
RoseMarie