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 Now online (1)big ...and 319 guests Last 5 registered Oplandisks nothingstar N_loop yipe foxtrotromeo Browse members... |
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I washed my beautiful hands in the black market dog water trough. But through it all the real stick in my spokes was the torment of my dreams. I fought of sleep with both fists and sometimes fire. With no more than a blow gun I made from an exhausted pen I shot the stars out of the sky. When each one fell sparkling to the ground I made wishes that never came true. Trees died if I tried to climb them. The decision was made for me to begin interpreting real life just as I would nightmares. |
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Are Drunk You? |
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