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I intently studied this nauseating flirtatious jive shared badger from you to me of our relationship already framed and fitted we never fell asleep at decent hours, ****** dry we were just another product of society we questioned the reality of a world never belonging to one so to be swayed in the music cold, taking it upon ourselves to never hold our heads too low we connected the tissues past pure plentiful parking spaces I saw it happen to us, taken over by fixation letting words fall from my *** into the world where you stood bewildered, courageous lark it was, you made me into girlish shrieks expecting a slight coldness from you I decided to sulk eating the dust I attracted my own thoughts remaining unhappy as you were oblivious our chosen concrete pathways: the negative. Child, as we were envisioning snow angel memories hallucination, love, courting to a distant yield. Child, a rush of adulterate naked plea who wandered busy streets grasping mace and typewriter keys make fun with your water bottles I'll dedicate a song to you Child, salting your French tongue we shall fall apart only once we lie beneath the ground curtaining our once frenzy shell Child, who put her middle finger to the air as she wrapped her ******* with bandage wearing those skinny jeans a hipster queen lenses in front of her face never did a thing Child, make away with a masculine feverish clean your witch hands do graze his bare skin Child, who broke glass bottles on her head to prove she was real, grew lady ***** as they were called in an effort to uncover what happened to the corners in a circular prism bid farewell your worrisome thoughts of homicidal suicide Child, scare the stop signs, the fragility of your former state has asthmatically fallen do not break me in half though your capable eyes do trace the outline of my body and feel my bone hidden beneath thin skin and weak muscle, veins of blue Child, who tore out the steeping cool of a farfetched acid tripped visionary iconic lie crucifying their  dirt stained bare feet to welcome pain, a hello name, Child, who blasted **** yo couch into their ****** distilment we have nothing to lose let poured down CO2 fill my lungs as I readily lie hiding from herb grace o’Sundays oxytocin expelled from our uteri we turned our back on the slight touch of pale skinned parts skipped meals skipped beats my heart weak fluttering grows strong with the running of my fingers in your fresh cut hair they questioned my appetite, whispered missing, she never met the standard, they had forgotten we let ourselves become our own nonconformists but we never admitted to it we yelled Bullocks at those who threw us into a status quo social movements mainstream. craving to be old fashioned, we lowered the skirts in our mind and forgot to swat the message that our ******* made us inferior Futures of Singularity we were scared of an age of machinery tossing our new cameras flat screens cellular devices iproducts we read books and intelligence floated above us.
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Jan 7, 2013
Jan 7, 2013 at 11:59 PM UTC
Untitled
I intently studied this nauseating flirtatious jive shared badger from you to me of our relationship already framed and fitted we never fell asleep at decent hours, ****** dry we were just another product of society we questioned the reality of a world never belonging to one so to be swayed in the music cold, taking it upon ourselves to never hold our heads too low we connected the tissues past pure plentiful parking spaces I saw it happen to us, taken over by fixation letting words fall from my *** into the world where you stood bewildered, courageous lark it was, you made me into girlish shrieks expecting a slight coldness from you I decided to sulk eating the dust I attracted my own thoughts remaining unhappy as you were oblivious our chosen concrete pathways: the negative. Child, as we were envisioning snow angel memories hallucination, love, courting to a distant yield. Child, a rush of adulterate naked plea who wandered busy streets grasping mace and typewriter keys make fun with your water bottles I'll dedicate a song to you Child, salting your French tongue we shall fall apart only once we lie beneath the ground curtaining our once frenzy shell Child, who put her middle finger to the air as she wrapped her ******* with bandage wearing those skinny jeans a hipster queen lenses in front of her face never did a thing Child, make away with a masculine feverish clean your witch hands do graze his bare skin Child, who broke glass bottles on her head to prove she was real, grew lady ***** as they were called in an effort to uncover what happened to the corners in a circular prism bid farewell your worrisome thoughts of homicidal suicide Child, scare the stop signs, the fragility of your former state has asthmatically fallen do not break me in half though your capable eyes do trace the outline of my body and feel my bone hidden beneath thin skin and weak muscle, veins of blue Child, who tore out the steeping cool of a farfetched acid tripped visionary iconic lie crucifying their  dirt stained bare feet to welcome pain, a hello name, Child, who blasted **** yo couch into their ****** distilment we have nothing to lose let poured down CO2 fill my lungs as I readily lie hiding from herb grace o’Sundays oxytocin expelled from our uteri we turned our back on the slight touch of pale skinned parts skipped meals skipped beats my heart weak fluttering grows strong with the running of my fingers in your fresh cut hair they questioned my appetite, whispered missing, she never met the standard, they had forgotten we let ourselves become our own nonconformists but we never admitted to it we yelled Bullocks at those who threw us into a status quo social movements mainstream. craving to be old fashioned, we lowered the skirts in our mind and forgot to swat the message that our ******* made us inferior Futures of Singularity we were scared of an age of machinery tossing our new cameras flat screens cellular devices iproducts we read books and intelligence floated above us.
isabella-obrien
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isabella-obrien
Jan 7, 2013
Jan 7, 2013 at 11:59 PM UTC
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