they would've seen various city lights
danced under the stars
in the middle of the park at
midnight
they would've embraced each other
on a daily basis
palms colliding as their
fingertips intertwined
they would've exchanged secrets
without hesitation
snickering to relieve tension
they would've dreamed together
grasped opportunities
whilst remaining side by side
they would've grown old together
admiring how drastically their
surroundings changed
and how they succeeded in staying themselves
throughout everything
they would've lived
breathed
cherished
laughed
appreciated
loved
if he hadn't changed
if he hadn't noticed that he did

I don't care what anybody else thinks,
Anime is is bae, even if it has it's kinks.

I hate the internet, with a burning passion now,
and all because it took my anime!

I was almost done with Death Note and Black butler
Now what? Do I just watch re-runs of Bleach and High School DxD?

Anime I LOVE you! and Last night I almost Cried! I now look at my boyfriend and say....

I understand why you almost died...

Don't mess with hard-core otakus.

I grew up watching romance anime,
I loved them even though most were cliché,
Shy girl meets popular guy,
Two people love each other but they're too shy,
I remember waiting all week to see if she gives him her homemade chocolates on Valentines Day,
Squeling when they finally say,
I love you
Then they kiss under the fireworks later,
They barely show anything beyond that but I assume it's happily ever after

Every single time, they have their first encounter under the cherry blossom tree,
I remember thinking hey, why can't that happen to me?
But there are no cherry blossoms here you see,
The boy you fall in love with at the first day of school,
Will not be yours by the last episode,
That the guy you always see at your bus stop,
Will not always save you a seat,
That when he holds out his hand,
No, it is not always your hands, he is reaching for
That the sparks you feel when your lips touch,
Are not always fireworks
But maybe just electricity; waiting to shock you

I've learned that "I love you" doesn't always mean "Happy Ending"
I realized that "I love you"
Doesnt always mean "take everything i have"
I found out that "I love you"
Doesnt always mean "I love you"
That "Forever"
Is about as real as you meeting the one under a ******* cherry blossom tree

Yes, his eyes may sparkle,
Yes, they don't see him the way you do
Yes, the words I love you
Feel like the sweater you finally bought after eyeing it for months,
Yes, this moment may feel so surreal,
That you can hear the background music and see the sparkles everywhere,
But you see,
this is not an anime or a movie,
This love is'nt gonna end up the way you planned it to,
Yes, you may be the author
But this, is not just your story.

-p.a.r

Os iusti meditabitur sapientiam,
Et lingua eius loquetur indicium.

Beatus vir qui suffert tentationem,  
Quoniqm *** probates fuerit accipient coronam vitae.

Kyrie, fons bonitatis.
Kyrie, ignis divine, eleison.

O quam sancta, quam serena,
Quam benigma, quam amoena esse Virgo creditur.
O quam sancta, quam serena,
Quam benigma, quam amoena,
O castitatis lilium.

Kyrie, fons bonitatis.
Kyrie, ignis divine, eleison.
  
O quam sancta, quam serena,
Quam benigma, quam amoena,
O castitatis lilium.

Little Italy
Im sorry,
I'll never see you again...
Little Italy
Im sorry,
I'll never see you again...
War calls me on...
Little Italy
I'm sorry,
     I hoped I'd see you again...
                      But my life had to come to an end...
                            
                                                                             I am fading...

Italy*
Cant you see who I am?
Ive always been so close to you the whole time....
Cant you see who I am?
That ally, coach, and captain
Cant you see who I am?
Who always told you to stop flapping that white flag
Cant you see who I am?
Your Germany

We have oddly sticky hands
oil, dust and sugar
newspaper ink and ceramic chips
feet track on moldy rug
broken glass and rusty circles raise the question
peeking into past lives of
each room
salvage ex-roomate's ex-girlfriend's
shampoo body wash flatiron dishes

we make a shrine to spools of thread
little lion man and plastic pans
real tuesday weld and smoke with KC
won't you hold my hand?

Let's overthink dating for a night
I will try to be by your side
my rougey lips are for you
and the moon

There are the two choices. Wicked, wheel-men curving towards that which I wear in the evening when I paint on my black suit. The pitter-patter of organic matter, the Metropolis ground fresh. You tell me raspberry, I tell you I am not impressed. And then from the inimical lips, those bards from distance, sand spots and hordes of watering holes I place fresh Republicans on- and they were stealing the magazines.

Jury on.

Four devils they figure some, four devils. A anthelmintic potion to square away the worms. The pink worm, who takes long-distance telephone calls on your roommates only moments before the red worm, his head shriveled and his limbs crying from ******, she the blue curly worm; she is what we've been looking out and everything about this evening has slipped in the pattern we expected. Red light in fact,

They used the concatenations of frog legs(this was the big deal since My Mother loved the chelura of some tropical varieties of frogs and funny-legged), banjax the first one before the weather catches the summary being the news. Going as far as the the ecstasy of officials leaving the scene. The species catching its last names of life- genus and family alike racing towards safety.

And so I build in the fly zone. I haggle for President, and make sacred the realms of figures; denaturalized are the entanglements of humans, even whatever the mephitic and bellicose shadows shend and fordo their greatest powers.

I lull  and lust, my pugnacious frazil, just like my recalcitrant logomachy that I ****** and slide angrily and profusely with m and everything I try to do. Just so long as you can see me usufruct and lobby forthright the message.

Mine. Hate. Anxiety.