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Aug 21, 2014
Aug 21, 2014 at 7:38 AM UTC
I used to Tumble my feelings away until you found my blog. My feelings are backlogged because you've got my URL on your homepage shortcuts next to Google and Pornhub.
I relish the days I used to subtweet you from the club. How I used to let
the bass drown out my thoughts as the beat dropped faster than my faith in you. In us.
I wish I could Insta this moment without worrying you'd see me with him. You ******* stalker get a life. Why are you holding on so tight? Quit covertly favoriting my pics, tweets and reblogs. I'm over it.
Status Update: I'm done with you. You can unfollow, delete and block me now because the only thing you're holding onto is the illusion of closeness. Outside this digital world I'm not a follower, a friend or a subscriber.
I'm the last good thing you had.
Sep 11, 2014
Sep 11, 2014 at 12:20 AM UTC
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Quartermaster qualified quaint quaffing quadrilateral Pythons. Pyrex pylons put purdy purposeful puny punsters punching. Pumpkin pumice publicized prudential protean pros properly pronouncing prolific prodigies.
Proletariats professors' problematic. Pro privileges prioritized. Principle primates prevaricate. Preppy pregnant, praying prattler possibly Porgie. Poseidon pooping poodle ponders poppycock. Plum? Polite poison pods ply pitiful pinterest.
Pinhead Pillsbury pillager Pi. Pigskin pierce petsmart pests permanently. Perdition percolates peppered PennState pedigreed PearlJam Patagonian. Pastor pastes passion passably. Papas' paginated orbitz okayed. Nutty node needs money.
Next netzero nee naugahyde. Nattering nationwide nabob Moxie Molly McGee. Monosodium livingsocial joyus je kickstarter. Identityguard Huffington GMO. Gluten Glutamate footloose fancy free footlocker. Fingerhut fetishistic fabrication Cingular.
Feb 3, 2018
Feb 3, 2018 at 9:47 PM UTC
My old life called today
To ask how I was
Missed a doctors appointment
His sister died
The doctor's sister that is
No idea whats wrong with me
If it hasn't killed me yet
I guessed it wouldn't **** me
for two more months
Till I see my doctor at least
My old life called
Old,
Dissatisfied
Lonely
We decided we saw each other too soon
My old life called as my new life sat by me
I moved on
So why does it hurt to hear the pain in his voice
Sep 12, 2013
Sep 12, 2013 at 4:27 AM UTC
Recharge లేని sim లోనే love charge ఎక్కిం చేసావే .
Talktime తోనే మాటలు ఇచ్చి validity గా నీ వలపే కలిగించావే.
Mobile antenna కే నీ message frequency తో vibration తెచ్చావే .
Everytime signal ఉన్నటే నీ ఊహల videos అందించావే .
అంతే లేని offers పెట్టి జీవిత కాలం నీ subscriber చేసావే .
Lifetime service అందించేలా life అంతా భరోసా పెంచావే .
Ring tone తో నీ call కనిపెడతాను ఒంటి tone భట్టి నీ మనసు చెబుతాను .
Balance card లు ఎన్ని అయ్యినా నీ ప్రేమ తృప్తి నాకు తీరదులే .
భౌతిక ప్రపంచాన్ని మరచి నీ మాటలు పూర్తిగా వింటూ ఉంటాను .
నీ ప్రశ్నల చిక్కులు విప్పి నీ నమ్మకాన్ని కాపాడుకుంటాను .
Signal ఎ తగ్గింద tower మీదుకే ఎక్కి reply ఇస్తాను .
Speed గా నీకు reach అయ్యేలా high data lines నే పెట్టిస్తాను .
నిరంతరం నా ప్రసారాలే నీకందేల ప్రయత్నిస్తాను .
Nov 8, 2012
Nov 8, 2012 at 10:58 AM UTC
Hey, hey, been racking my brain
Thinking of something to say
about my confusing sexuality
Sorry for leaving you guessing
because not figuring it out
gets kind of depressing
Am I right, or am I right
Not sure I can't decide
Don't think I'm Bi
All of this thinking
Is hurting my head
So let me put it this way instead...
Doesn't matter if I'm straight or gay
Don't get laid anyway
Every time I try, get the evil eye
Looks like another night
For Me, myself and I
It's alright girl, always get the same reply
Thanks for giving me a little of your time
To ask the question, if you're interested in some sexin'
Thanks for a little of your attention
Thanks for your rejection
It's just another night
For me, myself and I
And my Pornhub search is very extensive
Lucky I'm not a subscriber,
that would probably be expensive
Premium's what you need, Nah not me
I like it like I like my women, free.
And this attitudes why you aren't getting any
Sorry just a guy with a little decency
Can you hear me on my ***** frequency
And imagery plays in sequence
And ****** thoughts become more frequent
I'm a bad, bad, bad boy
And lately, all these ****** references are flying out my mouth
Better get the soap and wash it out
Doesn't matter if I'm straight or gay
Don't get laid anyway
Every time I try, get the evil eye
Looks like another night
For Me, myself and I
It's alright girl, always get the same reply
Thanks for giving me a little of your time
To ask the question, if you're interested in some sexin'
Thanks for a little of your attention
Thanks for your rejection
It's just another night
For me, myself and I
All these ****** jokes
Got my colleagues rolling there eyes
Just kidding, they're laughing on the floor
With this little creeper
It's all right girl, I won't hassle ya
So you can hustle my heart
break it, so I can turn it into art
Think I just set a new bar
A new record has been set
Not sure, I'll ever top it
Just like I can't get on top of anyone
That's why I'm left singing
Not pretty enough
And if you got that reference
I salute you
Don't laugh, because it's true
Doesn't matter if I'm straight or gay
Don't get laid anyway
Every time I try, get the evil eye
Looks like another night
For Me, myself and I
It's alright girl, always get the same reply
Thanks for giving me a little of your time
To ask the question, if you're interested in some sexin'
Thanks for a little of your attention
Thanks for your rejection
It's just another night
For me, myself and I
Mar 20, 2018
Mar 20, 2018 at 6:40 AM UTC
I saw a vision I stood in modern time on my feet but in the spirit I stood only where immortals breathe in
The sacred land of ancient days the Native American people came to life before my eyes there was a
River nameless but of truth the mighty Euphrates or more correctly the river of life heavy and rich
Were these waters glory stood bank to bank the mesquite and cotton wood seemed to be made of
Silk they flowed dreamlike as flags over a free land the day was far spent and in the dying sun she came
To bathe but not in the natural waters but her quest was to worship the great spirit in which all true
Cleansing occurs she wore the dress of her people white doe skin with red and turquoise bead work
And her reddish skin did glow she sent a treble across the distance to where I stood when she lifted her
Hands of faith and hope skyward in surrender beauty untold before materialized upon the burnished
Sand all of nature fell silent as she called on the Great Spirit stillness took on new meaning vastness was
Restricted drawn back from it natural means to this tiny spot of ground the air charged with the deep
Longing of her soul the trees crackled as heavy mist descended mellowness pervaded this place made
The wood the rarified earthy throne of God himself as she spoke oh the face shown with uncustomary
Wonder did the unexplained become common knowledge for her it did in this grand display of
Emotional release she bridled the breeze before horses were ever found in this land she drew heaven
Down all was quiet and empty in this clearing and she filled it with noble words that honored Him who
Deserves all praise we live on error and garbage when we should be feasting on spiritual riches to know
All that is yours it takes you joining this Indian maiden come not rehearsed and filled with self but as the
Lowy penitent subscriber for his free gifts these most treasured thoughts came as I watched a young
Woman praising our great father remarkable circumstances that are your birthright if you only exercise
Them God bless you
Sep 29, 2012
Sep 29, 2012 at 10:39 PM UTC
While
I was fiddling with my phone..
Awaiting a beep
From my most precious..
Alas!
A text came in...
And it was my ex
Texting me... confessing
How much he miss me..
And so I replied
"We re sorry, the subscriber you
Are trying to reach
Doesn't give a ****
Mar 30, 2014
Mar 30, 2014 at 9:15 AM UTC
White Dove
I saw a vision I stood in modern time on my feet but in the spirit I stood only where immortals breathe in
The sacred land of ancient days the Native American people came to life before my eyes there was a
River nameless but of truth the mighty Euphrates or more correctly the river of life heavy and rich
Were these waters glory stood bank to bank the mesquite and cotton wood seemed to be made of
Silk they flowed dreamlike as flags over a free land the day was far spent and in the dying sun she came
To bathe but not in the natural waters but her quest was to worship the great spirit in which all true
Cleansing occurs she wore the dress of her people white doe skin with red and turquoise bead work
And her reddish skin did glow she sent a treble across the distance to where I stood when she lifted her
Hands of faith and hope skyward in surrender beauty untold before materialized upon the burnished
Sand all of nature fell silent as she called on the Great Spirit stillness took on new meaning vastness was
Restricted drawn back from it natural means to this tiny spot of ground the air charged with the deep
Longing of her soul the trees crackled as heavy mist descended mellowness pervaded this place made
The wood the rarified earthy throne of God himself as she spoke oh the face shown with uncustomary
Wonder did the unexplained become common knowledge for her it did in this grand display of
Emotional release she bridled the breeze before horses were ever found in this land she drew heaven
Down all was quiet and empty in this clearing and she filled it with noble words that honored Him who
Deserves all praise we live on error and garbage when we should be feasting on spiritual riches to know
All that is yours it takes you joining this Indian maiden come not rehearsed and filled with self but as the
Lowy penitent subscriber for his free gifts these most treasured thoughts came as I watched a young
Woman praising our great father remarkable circumstances that are your birthright if you only exercise
Them God bless you
Mar 26, 2012
Mar 26, 2012 at 7:24 AM UTC
I saw a vision I stood in modern time on my feet but in the spirit I stood only where immortals breathe in
The sacred land of ancient days the Native American people came to life before my eyes there was a
River nameless but of truth the mighty Euphrates or more correctly the river of life heavy and rich
Were these waters glory stood bank to bank the mesquite and cotton wood seemed to be made of
Silk they flowed dreamlike as flags over a free land the day was far spent and in the dying sun she came
To bathe but not in the natural waters but her quest was to worship the great spirit in which all true
Cleansing occurs she wore the dress of her people white doe skin with red and turquoise bead work
And her reddish skin did glow she sent a treble across the distance to where I stood when she lifted her
Hands of faith and hope skyward in surrender beauty untold before materialized upon the burnished
Sand all of nature fell silent as she called on the Great Spirit stillness took on new meaning vastness was
Restricted drawn back from it natural means to this tiny spot of ground the air charged with the deep
Longing of her soul the trees crackled as heavy mist descended mellowness pervaded this place made
The wood the rarified earthy throne of God himself as she spoke oh the face shown with uncustomary
Wonder did the unexplained become common knowledge for her it did in this grand display of
Emotional release she bridled the breeze before horses were ever found in this land she drew heaven
Down all was quiet and empty in this clearing and she filled it with noble words that honored Him who
Deserves all praise we live on error and garbage when we should be feasting on spiritual riches to know
All that is yours it takes you joining this Indian maiden come not rehearsed and filled with self but as the
Lowy penitent subscriber for his free gifts these most treasured thoughts came as I watched a young
Woman praising our great father remarkable circumstances that are your birthright if you only exercise
Them God bless you
Jun 17, 2013
Jun 17, 2013 at 12:05 AM UTC
It's not that I don't appreciate
the glorious struggle of this life.
But when I'm crowbar hopping until I can hardly stand up
guilty of smashed in windows and foggy afterglow afterthought
I can't help but wonder
how I can be anything but off the wagon
when they've been circled to fend me off?
They want their stereotypes?
Fine.
I'll be the station wagon burner of their suburbs
but even if they're entertained I don't want their thanks.
I reserve my thanks for being alive
for being allowed to rise each day
even if my thanks are abstract marks lining
my arms.
Sorry if this is disjointed.
I'm writing from the heart
but shooting from the hip
with those familiar revolving killers
slung low on fun belts with
the chambers of my heart spun
until I'm dizzy.
I've always been an avid subscriber to chaos
but I can't deal with this disorder any longer.
I know that each and every one of you
are precious and dear to me
but I can't break away from the oubliette of
my dreary words.
They're like my alchemical dependency
burning dread into gold.
I give thanks to know you
even if showing it is difficult.
I'm a barren mined strip.
Now I'm discharging thought heavy metals into your
water supply and I can't help but think I'm
poisoning everyone.
I've been a misanthropologist all my life
discovering what makes us so awful at times.
Now I just
want to be a sincere apologist.
I need you more than you need me
and I love you.
Feb 6, 2014
Feb 6, 2014 at 10:36 AM UTC
So what if I'm a subscriber of the second-hand newspaper?
An enthusiast of arts of the underground?
How in the slightest is it wrong to lend my ear to the notes of a musician of the tunnels?
Why do you see me - no us - as uncivilized?
But in a sense, we are uncivilized. We are far from people like you.
You fear the beauty that flourishes below your feet.
You fear the color that taints your white walls,
the sound that fills your familiar silence.
The darkness you loathe is where the beauty we love begins.
Our beauty has no face, but rather sounds, colors, emotions
Just a noise outlined in dirt to you, but a harmony outlined in the emotions of a people to us.
We don't need your so called "perfection,"
We have our own. Unaltered. Untainted.
You oppress the artists, the dreamers, the supporters of the true nature of beauty.
Ask yourself, am I the one uncivilized? Or are you?
Nov 29, 2013
Nov 29, 2013 at 1:26 AM UTC
the subscriber
you have dialed
is on the warpath
so enter at your peril
Aug 5, 2015
Aug 5, 2015 at 2:05 PM UTC
When I move about
I hear the Gospel Og your name
Strange faces of disappointment
For those who didn't qualify
You sound more than a hit
Me as your subscriber
My strength lays in revising your lips
And sing to your love
The stanzas of hope
Jun 11, 2015
Jun 11, 2015 at 1:22 PM UTC
I try to distract myself
With mindless tasks
A futile attempt to calm myself down
Yet it still fills my head
Those words I wanted to hear
But never did
It burns at the back of my head
And I still feel it
Strumming at my vocal chords
Plucking at my heartstrings
So like a fool I thought the tune would carry
Across the stormy seas we once sailed on
I thought it would carry
All the way to you
Yes, like a fool for you I called you
In the middle of the night
So that the words I’ve never heard
Could finally be spoken
Even if it came from someone like me
Who’s already broken
It rang for a while
With two beeps at the end
But as the tone finished
This is all that was said
“Subscriber cannot be reached, please try again later.”
Jul 26, 2016
Jul 26, 2016 at 1:03 PM UTC
memories do hold
a thousand feelings
that linger in our hearts
and make us feel alive
a sunny morning
reminds me of the time
where I made him smile
because of a cheesy burger in exchange of his hard disk drive
a windy afternoon
when I first heard
him deliver his corny joke
while he fixes a subscriber's telephone line
a gloomy 3 pm
when he drove to see me
hold back my tears
for a friend that failed to battle for his life
a quiet sunset
where he gave me
his birthday gift
and watch me as I open it with delight in my smile
a rainy night
where we both ate
our take-out McDonald's inside his car
as we listen to the radio and held hands
wistful I say,
that these kind of days
remind me of my
one great love
Apr 16, 2020
Apr 16, 2020 at 12:23 PM UTC
Do not have a hundred rubles, and have a hundred friends.
Half a friendly hundred
Send me to Broadway as soon as possible,
Take half to the hood.
Correctly the poet said:
"Communication is a luxury."
About yourself live left a trail,
Said backhand.
It seems, the moment imagines –
People will wake.
And neuromental subscriber
Communicate will.
Mar 17, 2019
Mar 17, 2019 at 1:43 PM UTC