blurbs, suburbs, writings, hasty tastings, fibres and frame, grilled, softened, appreciated, excruciatingly talented, genuis, hocus pocus spelled incorrectly, ironiclly, at the end of a misplaced magic trick, houdini in a fix and liking it, holden Caulfield with a girlfriend and a glass of champagne, mesmerized landscape architect workers tracing billions of samples and coming out insane, sane ****** monsters with no idea of where to turn to next, bottles of budlight, a crucifix,
misplaced, erase one memoiry, and another one emerges, out of a cloud, and it sits there for awhile, assured of itself, then once again, drops out of the race, a low bass chord, and the protagonist character takes a drag of his cigarette, and it’s all over

lost again.  thought I had found something, but then you seem to fall on your *** or wake up confused. that’s why the night makes more sense sometimes, because you can just let the night take away your sense of needing to get something done, the night doesn’t have any expectations of you.  The day expects things, the day beckons you.  The night is cold and careless, its when the bad things happen, its when the drinks happen, and all the good ideas happen, too.

Where did these come from
Brush them off, yeah, brush them off
               They won't leave
Sticky, spun strong like the spider's web  
Try again
Dance around like crazy trying to flick them away
                All to no avail, still there
Lay with someone else
A name slips....yours, Freudian slip
If they heard they didn't say
                Has happened more than once
                all trying to not let this be
Spider's web weaved around my heart
Scared, can't do this.
Not ready. Not yet.
                ready, not ready
                just afraid of being again left alone
Try to brush them off, sweep under the rug, wash them off, drink and sleep them away
****, still there....
              *For this roller-coaster ride I guess I'll start to prepare.

fall has come witch means all the leaves fall.
every thing dies for the winter. all the open trees bring new sounds to me that i never heard before.
summer has gone but the beauty still rides along the herizon threw the trees.
every thing has changes even my emotions.
i walk a trail going threw the woods.
every thing has lost its color but not my heart.
all the animals have started to bed down.
so its only windy that sound brings to me.
the colored birds fly around fighting echother for what they collect for there nests.
every thing is so pretty if you look at it from and angel.
winter is creeping around the corner with its freezing hands.