pain killer after pain killer.

oh baby girl, you know better than that.

pain killer after pain killer.

*oh baby girl, you know the sadness never dies out.

She was a cliché of depression and eating disorders.

- F.T

I don't travel for a living, I travel to feel alive.
And I've learned that nothing will better illuminate the path ahead of you than a burned bridge behind you.

If earth is a mother
We are mother *******,
I swear it's not an ugly name
It is a name
we have earned after awesome ashamedly acts.

We are not simply satisfied with unclothing earth
We love to drill deep inside her womb
And love to ***** huge minarets of her own meat and bones
On her emptied-self;

Earth is a symbol of our unending desires:
Our need are not in our little stomach
They reside in our devilish mind
We are ******* pampered children
We have learnt to live on her depleting signs.

Ignorance is our times' global religion
Lured easily by biblical stories
Told by our corporate priests
My stomach is a warehouse of fast-food chains
My mind is advertisements' gutterhole
Every night I wait to be slaughtered like a hog;
May be now days we are not born with brains
We are jungles of moving men
With umbilical cords gone.

We are dead suckers
We are mother *******.

Get a coffee
Light up a cigarette
Write
Get published
Become famous
Get bored
Write again
Write again
Get more bored
Write, write, write
About boredom
Become miserable
Write
About misery.

Die famous
But miserable...


-- Eleanor

It's funny to build a tower
Only to play in the ashes
Three times the picture shattered
I'll gather the shards
And make myself a mosaic

Weathered stone
        Patiently waiting
               Watching seasons
                      Wanting only To return

O generation of the thoroughly smug
and thoroughly uncomfortable,
I have seen fishermen picnicking in the sun,
I have seen them with untidy families,
I have seen their smiles full of teeth
and heard ungainly laughter.
And I am happier than you are,
And they were happier than I am;
And the fish swim in the lake
        and do not even own clothing.

Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

Hello darling.
Softly shimmering glow,
A vision to behold.
Rosy cheeks,
Now pale as snow.
Realizing that screaming,
Is me...