I remember, I also dreamed of something. You call my imagination by a delusional accident generator, without which any girl with a frightened nose can be caught. The universe presses me on the chest deaf sobs ... It's time for whining, native. What else in my life for you more than not according to the concepts? What else are you waited to call a waste of time? Ah, yes what is me about ...
Metamorphosis, memory to smithereens, turned everything in this dampness of concrete walls. Between us love or, will you speak again about the weather? Is time interpreted by a bit, or days - is it matches in length in the kilometer of smoky exhalations? I ran away from my "believe," I burned all my trumps, lost ... Lost.
This is dry "I am not me" ... What can be funny every second publications in social networks on how not to live, but live? We, directors not dram, but comedies, what else are our fingers are able to squeeze the ball handle in them for 3 rubles? Surely, you are completely seriously hoping for my "but", as before, cute? Since you took away to take away my faith, fick all the outcomes of these events. After all, for some reason, you needed it ... Yes, each of you who tightly shuddered the ears with music, everyone needs a support, everyone dreams of drinking mocha, carefully bolding in the floor, but hear how someone saw your heart, who Yes, sitting opposite.
I burn in your hands, in our general "we". I tried to pay myself entirely and stay on the original. And who won now? Yes, is it in the scratched mirror with the lips of the color "fucking"?! ... They say that there are no losers in love ... They say they do not play in love at all.
September'12
A.M.
