whore belly.

i dont feel the need to explain myself.

fuck this, imma just get high.

and reduce this bed to sparkles.

this ones for you.

you pussy.

We're fucking Dangerous.

you cant see through me, no matter how hard you breathe.

and you cant see inside me, no matter how hard you punch.

long bus trips

Recycle ALL of your thoughts. keeps you on your toes.

Reminisce about your childhood and keep my business off your nose.

organising chaos.

with hand grenades.

why do we leave our decisions of importance to the village idiot?

i left something here for later.

something you wanted, something i couldn't bare to pass on.

pretty hearts.

vulgar generation.

how you just wish you could control me, while i dance around your subliminal slander.

you want to know my deepest and darkest fears? you want me to resist, ever so slightly.

and then fall into place.

i dont even know what to feel any more, but at least the uncertainty is MINE.

don't you just wish, with all your misdirected energy, that i would just melt into the mould you have set aside for me.

don't you just wish you were god.

im not dead yet.

Are you?

some say that I'm a dreamer, but I'm not the only one.

watch your step.

beware of the alligator pit.

no one warned me.

dont cry, ask why.

When was the last time you did something for the first time?

Apricot shampoo.

Sometimes my fingers get lonely, behind the silver light,

When the flash goes off and our eyes burn the entire night.

I know what hurts me now, might only sting tomorrow,

But when you run for the deep end, a part of me wants to follow,

I'd let it pull me under and fade into the mess,

Only, not even that could calm this wiry head.

She can hold my hip if she wants to, tell me she gets me,

I'll let her run her fingers down my back and tell me I'm pretty.

I don't need to explain myself, i just need to remember to live,

It's just the way I feel tonight, its the way it really is.

People die, people cry, people don't always understand,

And if i seem a little strange to you, well thats because i am.

objects of love.

creednce clearwater revival Tee

http://cgi.ebay.com.au/CCR-t-shirt-vintage-creedence-clearwater-revival-grey-/250529834404?pt=LH_DefaultDomain_0&var=&hash=item800e9c9ef3#ht_7695wt_706

creedence clearwater revival Tote

http://cgi.ebay.com.au/CCR-Creedence-Clearwater-Revival-Custom-Accent-Tote-Bag-/290468626730?pt=US_CSA_MWA_Backpacks&var=&hash=item895f018160#ht_2160wt_754

creedence clearwater revival Hoodie- wish it was womans!

http://cgi.ebay.com.au/CCR-Creedence-Clearwater-Revival-Mens-hoodie-NEW-BL-Sm-/230151089852?pt=Men_s_Clothes&hash=item359612eebc#ht_3526wt_754

They say Ruby

a beautiful send off for a beautiful young woman.
"Goodbye Ruby Tuesday..."

you are ONLY my friend

nothing more.

forget about my vagina,

stop fishing for reactions that aren't there.

or i wont even be that!

Daniel is awake!

That's our boy :)

ITM airplanes cover.

check this guy. get right up owwn et.

Aloha?

simplified, please get some help.

that's enough of that.

DO NOT

FUCK

WITH

ME.

Or the wall goes back up.

perplexing.

If somebody said to me, "I am a fuck up because of my parents."

In almost every circumstance I would reply with, "You are old enough now to make your own choices, who you are is of your OWN doing."

So naturally when somebody says to me, "Your parents did something right, because you turned out pretty good."

I would be offended, because personally I feel the same response would be merited...

"I am old enough now to make my own choices, who I am is of MY OWN doing."

damn right I turned out pretty good, because I have worked my but off to turn my life around.

I did this.

shouldn't I be the one responsible for everything I've done right if I am indeed responsible for all I have done wrong?

Fuckers.

mind, blown.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0kbV6FVyjpk&feature=related

yo dragon lady,

This is a hairy fish.

and you CANNOT

just talk to me like you haven't broken me into tiny little un-manageable pieces.

its exactly what it looks like.

and i dont give a jolly fuck.

hunger pains

all i do is daydream about importance,

and convince myself i don't feel abandon,

or lonely or selfish or savage.

but class is rare and i cant afford it,

when I'm staring down a glass canon,

fuelled on liquor, solitude and baggage.

but you sure are pretty.

v'walla!

i love the feeling of accomplishing something, right after you thought you were giving up.

SETTLE YOUR PETTLES.

Lets just stick to the pleasantries,

Please don't tell me what you think of me.

There's no use trying to patch things up,

Your a volcano, I'm a tornado and neither of us really give a fuck.

I'm made of fucking titanium,

so whatever.

black apples.

human

My entire stomach believes you'll find me,

I'm obsessive like that.

When i feel your pretty words i wonder of our similarities.

I understand how they sung from your lips,

Long before i danced with them.

Only, could you really care to know that i cried?

That i ruined my make up to your voice?

I did.

Twice.

The very first time i heard my life in your lips.

I still consider myself normal,

You who cannot relate to something as deeply, are ab-normal.

And if i have kids, i wont let them be baby sat by you.

Because they'll probably be turned into lampshades.

i CANT

me and my mother,

were the same and excruciatingly different.

like a dried sponge in the sun,

that I'm sure was once soft, once useful.

is now hard, cores and unforgiving.

moulded to the shape it was rested in.

my mother is the sun, i am the sponge.

i am empty.

"He who cannot forgive breaks the bridge over which he himself must pass".--George Herbert

excuse me,

i dont mean to impose, but i am the ocean.

seven nine's and ten's

lately ive been thinking alot about my thumbs.

ive been spending quite some time apreciating them

during everyday activities.

for example, drinking my glass of water, how would we

hold a cup without aposable thumbs?

what would cups look like if not for these wonderful

gifts?

and how would the cups be made, without the ease of grip

and movement that comes with aposable thumbs?

EVERYTHING would be different without them.

new things would exist, and so many things that exist

in this magical aposabble thumb world, would not.

like buttons (the sewing kind.)

i cant help but think of the endless list of objects that

would nolonger resemble the version of the object we

enjoy with ease in this lucky world of thumbs. like

pens, gear sticks, sewing machines, phones, remote

controles, zips, magic wands.

how could we even gesture that everything was fine and dandy

without thumbs?

and im sure after, now yourself, also giving it some

thought you would have too relised that circular knobs,

like the kind you use to controll the volume on your sterio

(unless of course you want to go ahead and be a smart

ass and agrue that you infact have buttons you click)

wont even exist. and what the fuck will a jam jar look

like? or jars of any variaty? without these splendid

aposable thumbs, how would it be possible to open

anything of a circular shape that requires a circular

motion and a firm grip.

i could continue onto yet even more questions on balls

(yes, i am regetibly aware of the conintations of such word),

tying shoelaces and bowling, but its way past my bed

time.

Mega shark vs Giant octopus

reminiscence is plentiful,

mountains and caves of secrecy.

i don't want your name any more,

or your empty whole, your silver stare,

your infection, your embellishments,

and certainly not your egotistical assumptions.

your the rust on my car door,

and the mold in my bathroom tiles.

your this one single ripe pimple on my forehead,

your an example to deterioration.

So ill leave you right here, in this bottle,

soaking in your notorious scent,

a mixture of vodka and versace' cologne.

and i will never entertain your name again.

redbull and hotdogs

a refrigerator is the opposite of a drug addict.

because a Refrigerator starts in a cardboard box and then moves into a house.

The Fattest Neck In Hardcore.

this isn't your world, nore mine.

we are not measured by space, or time.

fuck young love

MIND FUCK

"The sun is a cube, not a sphere. It only appears to be a sphere because it is spinning at a high velocity. All suns (i.e., stars) are cubes. Darkness intentionally designed the universe like this because on a metaphysical level, cubes (or more specifically, their 90-degree right angles) create strife, confrontation, and confusion."

hey over active brain, fuck you.