Aug 2017
Dreams committed suicide.
Skirts worn on a low aside.
I could write you a song but I'm afraid it sounds like others.
The reflection of a glare that leaves the dark side of life.
For you were told that's the bad side of life.
Whatever you think about
speak about
you create about.
That's your power.
What is it this power.
That I cannot define but simultaneously express and simplify using reduction
setting aside marking the difference with a countless vision and division between a rope tied binding our minds.
They say you a *****.
I'm in love with you.
You a keeper.
A soul that seeks equilibrium with love and self
Isn't that a parallel play ?
A fine wrath with a critical eye
My job is to give you what you want.
My jaw always think about change.
Isn't that a deep failure of human complexity.
Our knowledge is inversely proportional to the truth.
Earth.
Life.
Are you a brain teaser?
You vain.
You raucous.
The system is upon us.
Imaginary is trying to rationalise stupid phrases.
What if you just a phrase.
Is your name insane or sane.
That was rhetorical.
You renounce my emancipation.
History told me who you are.
It told me you a perplexed dogma.
A rapid rotation in a circular form.
You take half the turn, You don't maximise your circumference, double your radius and square your diameter.
Clarity.
Enlarge your area.
You Ying in the Yang.
Your humor is designed to accommodate those who seek knowledge first.
Such a disturbing environment.
Death examines the cost of the land.
Awkward mournings are only recorded in our minds.
I don't need a piece of paper to trust you.
I don't deserve a ride.
I know how and when to trust.
I'd be skeptical.
How many times have you killed and left wounds lazy to heal.
See, with my abilities in life, I'm satisfied because I can't return them.
Unless I alter them.
Life is an act of offering services and products in exchange of capital charge per item.
My life charged me 5 adroit items:
• Independence.
• Brilliance.
• Maturity.
• Progress.
• Cash.
(IBM-PC)
In the end...
You just a set of events.
I define you.
You just a set of words.
Only self defined and irrationally undefined.
Skirts worn on a low aside.
I could write you a song but I'm afraid it sounds like others.
The reflection of a glare that leaves the dark side of life.
For you were told that's the bad side of life.
Whatever you think about
speak about
you create about.
That's your power.
What is it this power.
That I cannot define but simultaneously express and simplify using reduction
setting aside marking the difference with a countless vision and division between a rope tied binding our minds.
They say you a *****.
I'm in love with you.
You a keeper.
A soul that seeks equilibrium with love and self
Isn't that a parallel play ?
A fine wrath with a critical eye
My job is to give you what you want.
My jaw always think about change.
Isn't that a deep failure of human complexity.
Our knowledge is inversely proportional to the truth.
Earth.
Life.
Are you a brain teaser?
You vain.
You raucous.
The system is upon us.
Imaginary is trying to rationalise stupid phrases.
What if you just a phrase.
Is your name insane or sane.
That was rhetorical.
You renounce my emancipation.
History told me who you are.
It told me you a perplexed dogma.
A rapid rotation in a circular form.
You take half the turn, You don't maximise your circumference, double your radius and square your diameter.
Clarity.
Enlarge your area.
You Ying in the Yang.
Your humor is designed to accommodate those who seek knowledge first.
Such a disturbing environment.
Death examines the cost of the land.
Awkward mournings are only recorded in our minds.
I don't need a piece of paper to trust you.
I don't deserve a ride.
I know how and when to trust.
I'd be skeptical.
How many times have you killed and left wounds lazy to heal.
See, with my abilities in life, I'm satisfied because I can't return them.
Unless I alter them.
Life is an act of offering services and products in exchange of capital charge per item.
My life charged me 5 adroit items:
• Independence.
• Brilliance.
• Maturity.
• Progress.
• Cash.
(IBM-PC)
In the end...
You just a set of events.
I define you.
You just a set of words.
Only self defined and irrationally undefined.
