trampette

at times this stuff just bores me to torn little bits... some montepulciano red and I feel a tad more inclined to accept such large amounts of silly content...all those awkward yet fashionable spots for people to mingle online...how they bore me to crumbs really they do and I gave them a go...at times I prefer to feel that my bones are made of glass and that I will be perfectly, deliciously content remaining an introverted young woman with curly red hair... I miss my fede while he is off riding bicycles in kyoto, hanging out with his chums....

i wonder whether I should post a pic of my new hair...it really is quite lovely, shows off my eyes...I am a transformed woman... but it doesn't really matter, few read this thing...I have only one true follower/friend on this site, he knows who he is...

I really need to be grounded tonight like fresh nutmeg or pepper...I suppose my hands will do this time around...under the heavy blankets...letting my body toast and charcoal under the covers, let me leave traces of the days when I only used to play hummingbirds and dirt with my parts, now all that has changed since that obese love came this way, a fat heart is never, really unhealthy....that, I believe, is the only time when, extra flesh makes sense...accompany me tonight, at least in your dehyrdatred or drowned thoughts...did I ever mention that I have nightmares every night, every night, every shaved night... and I don't mind

should I go pink? I have been accepted such a while back, ages it seems...who wants to see me peeled?

I think I do...

Writing begins to rot when you censor yourself.... depression made me do it...self-hate, self-damage, self-signing, scaring, altering... makes you do it....

come up,come here and sit on my lap...let me lick the mud from you ankles and shins... I so want to be erased with a flip of your tongue....

*honey/miele*