Friday, January 15, 2010


Time ticks away on the clock in my kitchen and as I lay in bed writing on my yellow paper about masturbating I realize what I want more and more. I'll gather all my writings and i'll have a book done by april, someone will pay for it to be printed as a present and I will give them to the people that I hate the most. I write about everyone in the most beautiful poetic words known to man to spite you. All of my lovers have been recorded in history and have their own pages. Someone has been invading and astral projecting themselves in my dreams and whispering things in my ear. I know who you are and I would like it if you would be more creative and make it snow in my dreams or take me to italy. I'd like that a lot. My insides are twisting as blood rains out of my sex and im reminded that I could always bear children. The cherries that I bought at the store the other day are blacker than black and leave my lips stained like the blood. Do your tarot cards often and daydream mostly. You live in my world not the other way around, honey.

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