it says "all grades instruments value of trial share markets". All grade instruments was in the diversity sectioned sanctile off from wikipedia, close to the admiration and small sites planted around SO biology

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7 News . A new belittering moment of enrichment so taut it stamps as a name of instantaneous production. A place where production and procedure.

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this is besides the point. Do you know why? ...... Because that was really important and I haven't even started talking about money yet . True . There's a line weeee're alllll seeeearrchhingg foorrrrrr (8) (haha i sang that over facebook COMMENT for you) and yelled that too <---

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ALL I ALIKE IS TROLLING ON FACEBOOK BRB WHILST I SIGHHHHHH ohhh you know what noise that chicken makes dad (i hope all your friends at Telstra see this) because that's the sound we make when we're moving shit together from one side to the other. A to B we wanna rhyme cos MONEY yayee yipee sell and buy means i'll sigh and sign cos there's less matter in the bottom of the LCD tray.. Someone make me rich plzz please pleasi 3 x times i'll be your slave not three times cos i could hire people by the end to act that out as a role play day job as if they be babysitters and i duno if it should be like this now but in the end of that all Hapman-Batman Hapman will it matter cos the fulfilment might be expired.

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YOU HEAR ME?

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THE FULFILLMENT MIGHT OR MAY BE EXPIREDD. ... Aaaand so you want to cheat by going directly to figuring the difference between a leaniency defined by an m and a decading faded-out reason so that's may and might you'll ask cos you wanna know how much you should worry.. THISSSSSS AS I SWISH MY FEATHER SLIDING LIKE IT'S WET WITH MY JUICES ACROSS MY FACE COS I LIKE any kind of juice as i relax because juice is a retro, A refreshment on my constantly hand-fanned throat-neck shit box I speak out of. Juice is a tropic and i'm sorry roger this is my last call as a loud flying fighter jets...but.... i know you're names not roger..- (and he hops into straight away "THE.." )... [the] "Tell my family back at home I love them" as he takes fucking ages to say that like it actually means something to him. What he could be feeling was never asked and it's not because we didn't care. We just cared how moist and understanding any statement of evaluation that had nothing to do with tamper.

Like · Reply · 16 mins · Edited

boobs R god's bumper bags (Y) .. Made of sand.

Like · Reply · 17 mins · Edited

i'M MAKING THAT SHIT LIKE IT WAS THAT PRINCESS PRICELESS PRINCEBEST GIRL CANDIDATE NAME NATTO STANO'S OLD SCHOOL POLKA DOT LADY LACEY UNCLE'S PRESENT like i can see her under garments smudge across as a scheme of Ladies' Fashion.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ii-----iu-y-

this what i get from wikipedia lurking again. always a good traditional nibble of the cracker and it's biscuit. Where's your hat? We could all ask.. But we are not ever proved he's shit at wearing these hats. 

There's a difference between internet poetry and real poetry now. Even the books used to be different with tripe (w)/Q-ordmanship you can read.

I remember how beautiful the three spins with a smear spring coiled around with two. And how clear it was to me, and it twirled around as one, so slow was it but how it moved... Bold

Blogspot owns shard.

How far can shard get you high?

There is such things as the perfect moment.

Tuesday used to be longer

Perfect sentences to finish a post off.*

The pro's of shard kingdom, what you know, see the person as a speed.. Buying it off the right guy.
The vibes you can portray as a shard fanatic.. I love it when..

Robots are bullshit

The moment it was scary that you realise how good your country is running the country. Where does hell break loose next? That's the moment where you're unsure.

Are these saving?

Writing about the perfect moment doesn't exist. Science exists and words cannot suffice.

you can put hot pipes on the envelope windows you can see your name in without the pipe getting stuck to the thing.

Did the pipe destroy the window plastic or did the window

don't think about your statuses too much that you make on facebook, it's a horrific, and it's cos you're spending your time on sitting there just for a second and facebook can see. ‪#‎TheHorrorsandshocksitmighthappen‬‪#‎illuminati‬ ‪#‎buyingofffacebook‬ ‪#‎costhemoretimeyouspend‬‪#‎themoreyouloveit‬

the short trip between spending your time you spend and the illusion that you actually feel worth it and your surroundings are there devoted to your being, all at once. [This feels like spending your time, and they're buyin']

forgetting because i'm on the computer

this is one of the many ways of reason i've seen, what a different way to say it. This is one of the many ways you can see the Either, i mean either where we aren't looking, what's the angles? where they can't see can't literally see with their eyes like a black block in their vision"" like a  like a flattened pane spread out, soaring.

liking the stats up and down with liking the weeds against the shard. in society and beyond the scenes into the bedroom.

NOTE: THIS IS FOR GOOD
That there is one thought and one imagination eluding as it a bubble somewhere, one of reality, friendship trees (no loop) and


Internet is speed, writing on the internet. BUY speed accelerators in the atmospheric network that's covering the globe"

Why would there be other stuff in a drink bottle? Humour 1-10 ways to contaminate put in little things that could be lurking in a water bottle [that's been sitting there for two days]
What these would look like, little worlds snapshots of a square of brief snap shots of like e.g smaller people.




put the e.g so it's easy , what can you lose in this world?

remember becoming poetic. Chasing back Sundays. Throwback Thursdays. Chuck me behind you. (<- Porn>


Old school what does 
Why would What these How does they? How can they does? Can they do that again? Can they say that again?

I talk on my phone like I'm on weed on the time. That's seeking they say.

Train move go my phones so slow

Carrying a fuckin printer all aboard Melbourne's public train system. By garmed and alone, there's a little and the less is what is misplaced and rankeed like a snatch pulled from any grip let alone my own. Here up and posted on this metal banded seat, a cold arse spells out literally cold. Nevermind the fade out, from a blend the heights are risen and reason.The reason we all look out in front of ourselves, and sometimes it's called the rambling mirage. Sympathetic for passers by and how not they're sit revoke the take back as if it were gambling cold asses and temperature. What a shrougle estimation we have to sacrifice sometimes. Sometimes. Metaphors are a funny thing.

And a perspective can always beak all idle ramification less this could close yet though.. This need what may be. So it says and seems, dealing with this as an illness maybe enough to feed ourselves for a moment.

fucking great these two

this fuck

Machester Orchestra - 1972
First Day Of My Life - Bright Eyes
Song For You - Alexi Murdoch

"I want to tell you that I am in love your skin, your hair and your beautiful, chubby thighs. Your cosy stomach, your warm hugs and your killer smile.

But how can I? I know it's hard to see but I can't try any harder.

I find myself constantly screaming your name at the top of my lungs.. It's so hard to tell you with words. All I want and need is, "you're so fucking beautiful and I will love you no matter what. I will do anything in the world to make you happy and when you're feeling down, I'll give you your favourite hugs for the longest minute of your life and if you need or want another one? I'll give you two more. You make me feel like the luckiest man in the world."

Because Ally, baby, I want to give you the world though, I only have so much. I want to show you how much there is to give from my heart, but I just don't know how."

The tension in this room is so hard I could cut it with a knife.

"All the things I need in life…

1. Friends.
2. Mother.
3. Brothers.
4. Dunhill blue cigarettes.
5. Dean Martin.
6. McDolalds.
7. Bobby pins and hair ties.
8. Synergy energy drink.
9. Music Festivals.
10. Money.
11. Pretty boys.
12. Fake I.D’s
13. Dealers.
14. Weed.
15. Love.
16. Enemies.
17. Cartoons.
18. Knowledge in rates for drugs.
19. Perfume.
20. Sneaking out"

natalija

"What is this a hallogram, an endless platform

What have we done to enhance this design

Where do we go when we fear to resign

What have we done but learned to kill faster 

Where have we gone but straight for disaster

Dreamtime is fading wakeup and decide

This nightmare ends now"

I believe in peace, love and freedom - everything brilliant and the existence of the most terrible and immoral, and the power of the greater evil. 

*...
Drenched and soon to be dried,
this rain we experience
will soon vanish and hide
Cos this bond that we got,
is too valuable to let rot
cos the silly addictions
we all have a little bit of,
won ever prevail,
so we gotta team up
and prepare to set sail.
From the demons
I'm convinced they live
inside everyone's head
- not religiously
just defined by
how consciously
- we work,
in this world,
to find a real place together
to experience real peace
and remember - the times,
that magnified
a peak
in our lives,
that started in the deep end,
searching for a real mend,
to settle our stomachs
and endure what's coming,
to wait for our days end.

My life I forget to sum it up as wasting my time sometimes.

Maybe not

This is shit, all I'm writing about is that fucking technical shit and I've stopped rambling but all I actually really want to be thoughtfully doing is writing rambles. WhT about what about....
Maybe I can use "my pretty" method

You can't compare two personalities because you can't see the end of his fucking personality, and so he doesn't know you either because he can't see the end of yours.
This made me think that.. Actually... I just really thought about this and it came down to how much time anyone can spend overestimating somebody either in an instance, a small conversation, an introductory(anywhere), to a small appreciation to fashionable vibes as they walk past would raise questions as if you were pinning a feather.
This is how you become nicer for the appreciated and the something as a whole that one chooses to see.

There are some things I'd love to get to an understanding with my dad. I've realised, there just small things I want to let him know because I think,' 'you're doing it wrong, you could be loving it better,' but you can't.

I keep on from six years ago where I thought, and honestly, to be honest, I'll be honest, I will be and I'll say that trying to open your eyes was me teaching you something that as  the solidarity to the intention I had on and so in my life; I wanted to take you out to sit on the hunger of the pine like little birds. That (then and now) I knew it, and I knew it submissively and instantaneous about to bellow as the pragmatics I'd believe I was cynical not to go and eventually sip and throwback at all my friend's drinks. So, what better to bring you to class, I thought. I never wanted to toss much at you anyway.

And 'back'? Like they had it anyway.. I didn't care what they believed in, if only what they were trying to say was underlying climb attempt to changing my heart. I tried to learn but at the wit's it was hectic collision that we could think to avoid, only if we knew 'our other personification', that of whichsoever attends in case we need to give up or avoid someone with something, or someone who's concentrated (on something to care for). But like with the subjective discussion in just an issue that it still does and would always repeatedly evoke an inflorescent senility we had to go through and get used to, if someone spoke up about something they wanted to let out,
as an idea to their belief they expressed. And they wanted the rest of whoever was there to hear it like that too, if anything we never thought this was the epitome of loneliness, we ran into this.

I thought of having everything written like that good that one of my friends I always want to impress with "who I really actually was" were reading it and I was dead.

I don't know but thanks for coming back for me, and the answers are easy it's giving a fuck is the hardest.

So I slide onto the side of the couch from the arm chair bit of it, like I could sell this that's standing around me as I hang upside down

Ohhh the love of my strides and weaknesses

Write about as if you were saying . saying . saying

If you start to need to anxious to eat what psychotic denial distant advised before preparation. Borderline

Stop writing 21

So,
My sister always starts with so when she's at this particular level of seriousness which she's asking for our attention towards her profanity, so we think.
If only I knew what profanity means...

Otherwise, (God, I love that word

Would it be an educated guess if the answer was classified simple and because additional. (Friend, you will not urge yourself to understand how it's written so grandiose (and I'm guessing that word means pretty subtonic yet with exemplary focus), which, for those who struggle to comprehend reading blog posts, small news paper texts and fonts, paragraphs, prologues (but no one dislikes the wait to start of a book, and we all thank these) writings, readings [not like there should be a difference between the last two] but to those who struggle phasing into any on coming congruity or the profound lateness. This has an extent that's large enough enlightenment from any dynamic we pick up not only ready but everywhere, but with reading we care less.

Trying to feel for what someone has written in writing exerts an understanding from the one sentence to the heart of character from either your head, heart, your hips, your rib cage, your feet or even your Adam's apple (for the spike of presence) and before you're not giving yourself up to these books you read but that raw interview you've with characters before yourself as you yearn to hear more about them, or less, for that altitude as tolerance to somebody's patience could at this level inspire somebody to read however this could have another option.

Strotshit

Dunk like funk certainly punk hunk that's sunk to out tongue out sung drunk dunk too young a pun bung fun so rung so rung, done.
)

R

Reminder of how I used to call it with the dignity,

Do you care like dare?
One massive word a broad streak action taken by the dive from our difference from our hearts to the way we dress.

Bitch I'm in the 212

Second hand pip

I've got two months, Bree come on, seriously make this that studio dream. Paint everywhere. That's how shallow I can see it because I'm poverty - that player I've dropped the rankings but next to my nest I am. I'm just wishing and dreaming of more because a time material as soft as felt couldn't stroke a rhythm against my cheek for acceptance to be who I am.

I dream of groups, and they're men in capes and hats. And were strolling on schedule, talking isn't computerised nor a stress to all the places that we as one confide and wanna go, as we pause for the distance that eventually seems given by people who's slow slight slice of Alice was either left behind to conjure by junkies numb to the belief of a coreless cross of the bottom joint..- A rank subdue and obvious to respect.
A group I want to roam, For the one's who dream of cold fog as breath, stems for posts, legs for a stern agent for that place in time that typically that we all would want is to give it nothing but simplicity: A conversation converted to an "oh yeah, that was mad. You're sexy but keep talking as your magic is brewing" So I will not disrupt you to tell you how cool, or how much I appreciate what was said to deliver, because I don't care.. I know there's more than one way to move forward and be game good and inconsiderate.. Asking if we're on the same page, this momentarily stance scores.. All the time.

I've sky rocketed into a level of proposition and incidental I watched it grow from wind that unravels by itself strength by a great inland intuitive experienced too an exemplary drunk with but no doubt he plays with really long nails, grown with a curl so a challenger on the edge he stands next to blue flames.

We need

Conversation as the denominator.

I know the answer but I don't know how to get there. Spoken easily, mentioned a complement but soap on the bed, slippery if dropped and yes just like the demeanour so is the packaging.

And it hut me with a surprise left, got the core as it idle reptile bubbly so excited, flicker confidence, baby sitter, baby sat, worms and knowledge grope maximum violin grand playist

Ratch is back eating the rations sanctioned like kids ate the bacon

I wanna get fuck off tattooed on me deadset bitches I'm not my sister dry up already you used piece of disease

Fast cars branded and zipping a fast move like the soluble formation to preparing dinner and cooking upon a stove as and still. So inanimate

Then there's us, imagining if we could hold an echo before we know what it is, and given the heads that lean forward as the volunteers , we dream.
A line of them
Bowing to a plethora
Scratched and bright plume
So carelessly yanked before the speed
Like slaves to the acceleration,
as if
It turns them on,
As if it actually makes them sleep at night.

I just wish

Drawing like steph
Again
All this sketch over my fizz
Of reach and curves to my arch
Places are the circular
Those tails I draw now cos swapped details
Poor rawings, my drawings, my sister has cornered me
Into rain tainted blotched robo ribbon painted
Into my paper
The atrocity my emotive, rocked
Down cheaper than it ever is.
Cos the world's worth to me, but my artist inspires me to search Materialistically so that merge is a lean on tasteful congeniality,
In my daily cos all my drawings blended to the one single line as sexy time ripe up on the lined like I'm sorry, friend, I'm sorry if you got stolen by ribbon detanglement before the fire was stolen cos you were the one who taught how to walk through my door and steal my work off my floor
Cos you wanted the burst and flaunted and dispersed aspired alongside it as the coward who overheated. For flattery it sang to me that spreading like you were doing the cat burglary and then selling under the same spelling,
as your own hone

*"Local talent sucks"*

that's a weird insult ~~

You don't sniff yourself you trust yourself and parent as the fanciful, wants and needs

Swivelling like a prick in a two dollar shop.
Stuck to the walls it's all heavy and we're all hung up to see what should come down. We're all planted by our knowledge so at this point our ankles implies any savvy leverage. This feeling is customary to impulse. This is the syndication of choice and intimidations, grand complication as the incomplete.
I say this as if we're not working to make a trust to the idiosyncratic groove before we dance ourselves.
How we dance we already know how this will turn out, before knowing

I write of a place not so essentially still but reknown to an even capacity we understand as the level of basic enrichment, and fetch abolishment within the moment, one emotive we do not have time for.
So we think back to what we were doing in this experience, as it drops to a classification and a realty that has been a filial publish by people individual wholesome. We so then trust our instinct and flavour, our taste especially kids forevermore as the band manager we trust won't spend our life savings.
So the choice we consider during an interim momentarily, the eradication we acknowledge and so does the band manager just in case, and the intimidation we pinch before it all.
As the consideration and intimidation fades, the monumental throbbing premonition plays as money that is paid by us, as the moment, as the throb, as we scale, weight what's in front of us up, what we put in front of us whilst we have our feet planted, how much we can take we think of our strength.. All the time:    in the 'moment', in the choices made in this moment, what emotions shift and merge, as the demeanour to decision.
I write of this as a captured stillness but we spend a natural swelling, that we look after ourselves lawfully. A procedure we know and have then obeyed after the alongside has and is the place we believe in and parent from yearn and
This could be focused as an illusive appreciation to selflessness or naturalism which as when we do look at the overall and simply compare it to ourselves, which is easy.. What do we spend more time on.

These days

Shakes amongst words spoken tremors as the erratic ovation sterile justification. Ejaculation mere beautiful less worthy momentarily serving purpose of love economic possibility. These men that cum stand deplorable and facaded standing next to my manic insanity.

A relation
to the sinking blood a petal from a rose straight up to shameful, these days a stench yearns so against it a union of momentarily sniffing, we will live to forget, that moment we spend alone.

One of my own. A jezebel urges to grow but instead falls out to amazing and has to deal with self disceit and lack of energetic consistently.
Left alone with this as the stench of a gash I remember, as preempted destiny.. I'm still recovery from purchasing placing and saving all those people living in the public and walking as trees so can't you see I've already lost the rector as a measure to a gender of a quiet war, and as a daily contrary, successfully I ended up as standing all the time, and all those times after the fkn world chucked us into a silenced family so overall, fate would lead, I guess, but pity we all broke and lost influentially besides the solo wolf pack I regrettably found myself in without fail, every time, after getting chucked in the deep end.

So much time wasted to only believe it's where the ruins stand, we will revolve.
I mean, it's almost an influence, fuckin far from popular encouragement. A blend is what we believe in solely foreseer to keep moving, which is almost the illusion of trend setting but fashionably, this has lacked immensely so I worry and always think about this branded riddle: we're scared - that's enough, so - Why are we all finding ourselves as individuals instead of shipmansy, cos being cool isn't what gets me but how is there so many shallow footpath rockers that walk alone like their forevermore thinking they're the best they can be.. Which does matter but how does that fuckin vibe of accentuation that that's what matters most as whole to the days of our lives and especially, the days worth living and waiting for. I just wanna say,

Look, I know your sad and you're hurt but that's not exactly the way to believe in yourself as you're the one living the day, the day don't live you. We sound quietly this unfortunately silently and confides to me, really, that we can do without - someone just for a day.. And these heights and consistory that we evolve into is in fact a passionate conjectory as the consistuency that from one person to the next, they're just waiting for them to see something that's defines worth, and ridicules to fouhf off that question floating above and asking as the next to every cunt for some typical rectification. I swear, there were people that cared there for their Soldier and as architects and holders, when I cried all of you avoided addressing the minority, which in some sense I was too busy and too well fed and on a boat, purely of my own, that's rocking and as I was tumbling to those who stopped, instead of turning to the side like your path is your full ownership that you could never- ever even begin to believe you consistently fetch whatever crosses on your way to whatever futuristic fulfillment you believe so solely and literally a premeditated automated hopefulness that's hectic to the last step, and what emotions that have you at the edge, and for the delineated conversation so brief, and somewhat thoughtless, and a cheap  lateral to your short preconceived idea to preconditions. I cried before I was always told essentially by those passed me over and over without anything but a poor kneal down, hand-on-the-shoulder, a typical degrade from eye contact and that off inch that widens by nothing ever at these points these people and I interacted but it was never actually said or brought up that unfortune. As a lack of words that could have been said, and a lump of words moulded into what was said only sat on a string by the disappointed that appeared so greatly, as a mutuality and the fear and foregone mistake of balance, they kept telling me they didn't know what to do with the world either- and just give up. Cos that's what we all believed in until I saw an ample of degratitude and a prosecution of habitual profanity that we all at home implored to either interest of brutual and sequential interaction, beings of city-goers, and the decisive splits in conversational idiosyncrasies that, we all pause to defend and also try to tred amongst and subdue to the fact: of wholesome desire, that we all religiously and consistingly are asking for some self recognition wherever they can get it. To a walk that lessens the idea to waste time as it's little to assumption this days we are walking through want to remain as evidence, as solemn and comparitive.

I won't bother with the obvious idea that there's more spendage to be done, all the time but regardless, of the strut everyone is allowed to exemplify as the judgement to no one but themselves, that they wait to feel sexy, and what they believe as the degree of acceptance and especially focus, of compliment and good feels they'd slut around for if they knew how.

Those who swoop passed me and pause for a fanatical chat and brief reminder that it's not normal to be crying abouts, and especially alone otherwise someone will stop because they feel for you, or feel sorry for you- but that these days is the same thing.

Polarisation

No more demands like synthetic rubble, home schooled rap showed the political justice like as if systematic and everyone else wanted to sit with them.
The flaws in my reflection now I'm higher than the clouds, lower than my own bow, shocking seldom the rest is accounted for.
I'll hear champions cry hypertension and fine artistic fidelity like run this sure shit is shitter than we don't know either every put down or it's us up top shitting bricks to make a wall, so we don't tumble just crash and fall. As recognition of that precision basically it came to me that I believed in more. Turning tables I liked spun out cos getting dizzy was likely hereditary, that dreaming couldn't get passed me.
As this incredibly means I kick back importantly and god damn, with my family, and from my bed was this revolutionary.
Slave to the inanimate we prayed for essential stillness to capture it as it fractured it and made it the easier realness that was full lovely yeah?
Understanding fare of youth we worked the curve of our wishes about the selfless. Haunted was the family. Boy scouts, sashes and love, which then, and today still shows us the lesson of the anticipated nod we ga
We have more to worry about as stage tremors seem a doubt to those who once mattered a threshold nemesis against our best bellows we conducted as we sat back and watched how sick we kick back, listening to the wind and what sucks us in and busts it.
The reminiscent was separate to what we counted, like compared to these days it's not just growing up that ruins it. Because we controlled it. And we wanted it harmonious.
Segregated at this justice. Once is enough to put value to it, and attend to it, like we're used to it.
We grew up once.
The past we construed to a segment to worth and what it meant, then, or excitement was the lenient and we couldn't resist it.
Of course we agreed with stepping stones we ate for oxygen as we thought of thick air and it's origin, how to cradle instead of a wretch handle that could of been.
As life was free for us, nothing but that god forsaken sight of what's gone by as seen instead of desperately trying to hold tight, like we believed in something like living differently with an ongoing cowardice set believing in us as the better, religiously. To live simply and for the ridiculed shrug off we meant when we said bugger off, and I don't care anymore, it's gone.
But we reframed sadness as if were a border we could pencil in whenever justification threw us the pitch. A task of emotion we were obsessed and dressed more appointed to the tyranny.
Burnt crusts like shit nights, it was never about looking on the bright side.
A story unwritten to be told as a current that we would struggle as an on purpose detriment these days cos I never paid then, I played but spread the method as if it were a real trend, like "what are doing, cunt" was more important, as that's what mattered and eventually a dual to my imagination- these days, anyway. I'll preach it. We knew the riddance and waves like craftsmanship, like a dominion we were rulers and makers of lustful cavities we just wanted to swim through like caves.. Until someone stepped in with another lie to believe in.
I'm sure it was the Polaris scenery acting the yearn for present altitude, one that we yearned for and purely honestly, without no embarrassment.

Felony jump back right up that shit bro , ya gotta get it!

a rant to a random

i posted one before about growing up. it said you're not sure if growing up sucks or hurts more. which is true because it could just suck but you're growing up and you're hurting just because you're becoming in society and this world we live in isn't the nicest when you're growing infamous. which stays as painful so growing up hurts but which is worse; something hurting or something sucking? We don't know this and we should. People have designed religions around this. I have and you shouldn't join the hose with me, but reply, yes, reply i think you're probably wondering why the fuck would I reply to this.. (Shit)? Because it's not shit, what I'm saying is real life shit, i'm only a lass going on 21age these days and for two years I've felt like I've been here before. Everyday isn't the same, I don't know why depressed people say that because depression is real but it's such a good term used to only be wasted on such shit feelings I think so I disagree with depression, AND only because people can be more specific with their problems and dwell on a subject seems to be subjective and stereotypical 2014-2016 and as for forgetting your sad, that's the ticket i reckon but it rarely happens because if someone's sad they don't for a second spare up a spike to happiness just for the sake of it, they're genuinely sad because sadness and emotions are real, and people are actually really sad. They're sad man, what do we do if they're sad? We look on the agenda for boredom minus the laughter and joke telling like we seem to be "losers" if we're sad but honestly we're not leaving much behind. Emotion is real but depression, we forget about, which isn't a good thing. I long for something substantial and if it were depression to overcome these feelings then so be it because i'm happy to live in enrichment and static but please, no body wants to be bored. This is from me; as The You (like that's my name not my first but from the living world I'm named as You-some heightened being shit I'm proud of) Also as Ski Yong xoxo I'm okay with being sad, the contradictions of being sad isn't the problem because I'm happy with sadness but I'm so hard done by the voice of the people over ages and their sadness, and their cries. The one's we remember, most of them weren't crying for help (well politically they were, also helpless with their own minute problems) but as we cry because we're crying, or we cry cos we cry cos crying makes us as the one human worse. So what about that guy that cried with pain, where were the others? 
I don't know how closely you look at the public as the people individually but the others were nearby and yeah they felt his pain because he hurt. How did he hurt? he hurt them, but he didn't mean it. He just needed help. But not the same help the other half of the population needs. There's: this and then there's: tomorrow. This and tomorrow. Those poor people that have gone through shit honestly, I'm sad their missing out on Life as a "bettered whole" to what they know if someone didn't get them down. 
I know what you mean, it's just one toll of sadness and it's good to be sad which I definitely agree with because it's life's realty and reason (sadness) 
And isn't it funny how it's irrelevant things that pull us from the dumps? The only thing you can do is care less.. About the other person, and you know how to make yourself feel better as well.


One toll of sadness from a man that cries pain is too much. He does it because he has to, only has felt this need to express this because he thinks he matters and could matter more than the next person. Which he probably does because that's probably why he comes across that way but why? Why does he matter more if he's sad? Because he's dangerous or is his cries better? Are they astuteness (to himself or the people around him) Why does he hurt that Circle of Forgiveness-that-he-may-need in the future, he can't help it. He's not the sad one, he just has issues. Why do we respect these people? I just ruled out that as a nation we are respecting the people who personally hurt us; it's secluded and discriminative to ourselves. He's tomorrow, he's the one we're looking to dodge because he hurts when he cries no matter real tears or not, we don't want to hurt. So those who are getting hurt, watching others get hurt, watching men who hurt, men who are hurting others, women who are hurting others, women in pain, sad men, sad women, women who are hurting and men who also have enough time to actually hurt-because these people have succumbed into hatred. They have time to move on, and do this, and do that like they're picking up rubbish at Bondi Junction. But our emotions aren't rubbish and I as a lover of the Song and Music believe we shouldn't be listening to the man but sticking it to him. How the FUCK would you feel !!!!! That's what we need to say to these people.. And like I said before about how we forget about these other people who are crying and sobbing because they're not affecting the others around them with their cries enough. This could be either you're not trying hard enough or you need to milk this more. Enough means there is more, so I say work harder at the one thing when you're sad all the time. Don't stop being sad because if you put it away, you tend to hurt. And if your quiet I forget about you, and you don't want the You to forget about the sadness of the quiet people's because those are who matter, because you only didn't talk to them because you trusted they're alright and they'll come back tomorrow. What if half of them didn't? What was I supposed to do? Now it's about me, isn't that weird how sadness can merge into something just by the smear? Am I supposed to feel sad I didn't do something or just because they left? Because I could have done something positive, for them and for myself so I'm not drowning here in secondarily passive regretfulness I can literally know to feel about my people I might have lost. As Ski Yong xoxo it makes me sad that I have to jump to speaking figuratively when real life is the only one that holds one mend that yields us to safety as if It were chewing the whole world up and spitting it out. We don't have time for that anymore. We leave a Utopia which means we're revolving and moving forward from the last utopia we lived in, 5 minutes ago. So we just let the past crumble and die just to move on, 'happy or sad we don't have a choice' but this painful panics me again and again just because it keeps coming back. I mean i've spent time filling up my life like it actually took fuckin effort, why come along? Bastards. I get off my ass everyday to make sure I'm articulate and agile enough to avoid the fuck out of you when you manoeuvre and I swivel out of your way, just because I know. Just because I remember. Memory doesn't fade, each time, it doesn't and it won't so- Actually you probably don't have anything to lose but your life. It gets confusing when living is valued a worth that's more than getting stamped upon almost completely. I have so much to lose this time, please protest this. I'll tell you, I'm scared now and it's because I'm settled and I know how to get sad which is a big thing for me. As the You, as a Soldier of Humanity(deadset don't even try to google it, this website internet shit is firewall'd the fuck out of these days.. So sheltered and we don't even know it.. No such thing as research on the web anymore btw it's just looking and finding because searching

g over through links (surfing the net.. Cos you can't block that from the public) BUT As the You, a Soldier at Humanity (i write at because the title changes as the time, i may be more vulnerable one moment and not the next.. it's simply changed for protection.. I'll say For instead of At in my head all in all the whole time coming though) -:;* As a Soldier For Serendipity, i work alone; a one mind As Ski Yong xoxo as Brianna, The Rae, Brianna Rae, as Smoke, smoke, as Socks, as Yin (for chinese friends) as Bree, Breezie, Breezy Rae, Brie(my friend's doing, we love the cheese and I hope you do too) but as the you, a respectable higher advocacy ideally known as one person to judicial polemical that's dialectic to a/The Kingdom Of Sight (trust me there is such thing otherwise there wouldn't be gothic->modern buildings being built) there be a hierarchy in this worldly society they've made this into and I for both standardise by fact and I guess it comes down to trust from the bIgger Worlds. I own a lot, and I'm a creator but from me to you (I Won't get personal between the worlds you and I to explain where I stand) but I AM SICK AND TIRED OF DISAVOWING AND IMMEMORATING THE FIRST STREET LET ALONE PEOPLE I DON'T KNOW. I ONLY EVER KEPT THE PLACE ALIVE FOR US ALL TO PARTY SO I COULD SIT SOMEWHERE AFTER MY MUM KICKED ME OUT. I have a lot of issues and I'm sorry I sent you so much, you can read it if you want but time had it's toll most of the time and I missed out on my favourite points so it's a bit messy and a bit shit. But fuck I poured my heart out to you because I could for the once time I actually could think about which people I really cared/and care for. My biggest point about being scared about people hurting others isn't the biggest point, I'm not sure if you've heard of the Astor (I just made this private only between you and I, yay!) but I work in my own head, I talk to "those" but I can't tell you who as [well I just found out they are srsly subdue which is really bad] but that makes me a One man Wolf Pack and I'm not shitting you, the First one man to fight an army in modern day.. There's a war going on inside (AND OUTSIDE) our heads.. And they've got something to do with each other... I wanna cry to them, I wanna fall at my knees in the centre of the city again and just say why did you have to bring them closer together?? You already know we don't like the foreign voices we here so why bow down to it regardless if you're working or not- You respect it like it's better than you and WE'RE ALL SUFFERING. I can't live like this, this place is supposed to be too small but it's not. These aren't my people I'm worried for, The Public isn't as I said "my people" but those in my family I am only supposed to worry about although, it's difficult having half a Dad. The poor man is poor, he might as well see what it's like alone and without money because he's forgotten what's life without the life worth living like he believes they're separate but lives like they're not. I wanna tell him and I wanna say to them, 'your not really living like you used to' and i swear if my dad told me he's been doing it for years, that's okay then-all gravy-the cunt knows what he's doing but if they say they been doing it for years i'll cut sick, i'll probably gag at them for lying about a lack they work to believe and a lack that I believe in. I ask myself, why can't you see that it's just going to get worse because people are made to forget. People are made to leave, and go and especially come back. What's better when your friend leaves and then he comes back cos he's bored? Only if you're busy you'd be stoked. And so this brings me to the end of the days, and the end of my speech, (so I speak about the last issue as if it's the worse; only to then decide whether or not I should be ending on a terrible note or should I pick things up,, if I knew how *I'll just wait and see then) It pains me to not only believe but know now that people are suffering, and the days are shorter because of the people. Because of the people spending ess time in day not because of the Sun or the World and what He makes of it but the people can't handle longer days. It's simply it. They are E.v.e.r.y.w.h.e.r.e. and I haven't heard one mouth speak up about it, and I actually dead set fuckin wouldn't even bar a slice of it because I never had before, I never used to my whole life until the two-oh so if I wasn't holding a public march as a stance on the main St in the city, putting my head on the line AT LEAST (by vinaylla) I don't know how these houses would be.. Those men who are crying are not smart enough to know the difference between if they should put their feet up on the coffee table, or not. A feeling of common parity barely mercified from that of the rose in architecture, my family, the family, the family, the family i was brought up in, the family I was given born or hoodlum, the family that was taken from me from Those who are Living the life without the capitals.. I know this because they'res less talking to myself not by the means of good company but I know Insight, I know where every cunt should be looking but yet alas I don't how far -into the future*should they be looking.. Because that vision has to do with pride and current independence, if they should have a massive "fuck-it" or "fuck-everyone". No body says fuck you to those whom know they're safe, they got what they love, and by bitter means of the lesser apparent: a good conversation but that's not to say I talk good conversation because I don't anymore, they don't know this that I leave the conversation as Person B now, I can afford to do this but magical I may be if I bequeath choose to lead. As one conversation = friendship ultimately. And if it doesn't: you didn't grab their number or somebody made a rude remark.. *tsk tsk I'd say.. As yes, I am in serious disbelief and confusing when somebody shouts an ugly quote to either me or my friend randomly and renown.. It gets me confused and makes me ask "How did they find the time to think that?" "Why do they get to look at someone else like they're better than that" "Could that be the only guy that does that for miles? Just to even it out.. Thanks World for trying to make things normal but that cunt shouldn't be the lucky one" "He shouldn't be the one that gets to live like we used to considering he's an asshole".
Why and as if they are magical, because they are not... IN THE WINTER (winter) you and you lot are. I lack these days as The Astor sold out and shit itself, I should really do something about it.. This has happened over 50 times and I don't have the brain capacity to go and fetch what those scavenges have ripped and dredged from me one by one. I've only been waiting to live as the ingenue you like I used to be when I just had no idea. Life is simpler, it's nicer you think your murderers are there for you, you think they care about you which they should be in any retrospect but these days, they do not.. They do not feel anything for the victim and at that point in time (bigger than that very moment) they're not just doing their job, they're moving in opposites. Ohhhh moving in opposites, how this could make me cry by the sounds of it. The detriment, the stupidity, the shallow thought, the time you're wasting by doing this, the time your losing- Oh, the time you're losing can make me cry, for all I care. This still isn't me.

I finally saw her smile, it was finally her. Tell all my good friends that she earned my respect. I hope to see you soon, I don’t know what happens if I leave my room. I’m scared you’ll know what to do if I am to die before you

internet flowers are fake

When I pictured your head rolling across the floor like it's been held in a jar of purified water and kept in the back of a Rolls Royce but you're still so this is all an illusion.
There is this agglomeration that builds up beneath my rib cage when I'm thinking back of you. All this rubbish I'm hearing in my head and you're not answering your phone.
You know how this makes me feel.   So I churn
And I look up at the buildings whilst I cry and yes sister, they're seeming much taller than the streams of my tears that have ran down my cheeks, for you.
These alignments I succumb by farther a crude magnitude on my stomach; it churns again and my face crinkles up.
As it's tries to shrink itself and get everything out that exists underneath it as loss about dirt, soil and purity for the scrunch. So  I scrunch up my nose and turn out my cheeks, and watching myself crying is less entertaining than it usually is.
This is real sorrow, my sadness dressed a wreck upon question, and doubt. Questions I ask myself, questions you can't answer because I can't reach you, I thought - anymore.

There are two things, if I could write a letter to some guy that leads the shit that scares us, I'd write to tell him that they're running for a reason because that's a given. I'd actually tell him that I paused writing in that moment just then to only realise that slight litigation that we're not even running. I'd ask; are the rest running or are they waiting to die? And he'd just saying cunningly, "which seems more pleasant?" meanwhile adjusting his suspenders with a fleshy snap.
A one man wolf pack. One track. One minding single handedly thought he only seems to be avoiding things. Falling down them, slipping down them like soft leather and a TV remote, he loves, he loves and according to the column of his buttons his fuse mounds throwing plastic bowls against walls like the hope he has, hoping they would break. He can lay the gaff and deliberate by the clock as he slides through sand for a graze when he speaks.
Hopelessly afloat when he opens his mouth.

Like he's an alec from Barbados, a taut straw hat strict without any bits sticking out to say I love you. His personality, at the cliff edge rocked with wit like he's not serious, and flamboyant about his own jokes he let's that shit go.. Until the time is right. There isn't an ounce of patience left at his back door step but he keeps to insist.    A lover of time - and work - - subdue it seems to be handled minutely at once as a possibility. He loves to think with a fleck he fends off thought as if it was war time. A war we don't know whether or not if it's a battle or the becoming of a soldier that epitomises giving it up in what stance? Every day passes as he counts them without focusing on the hours before his cares, and his sunsets so technically, to him, and me; tomorrow can't fall. He will stare into predicament because to him that's not it all, the day isn't all it's worth because it entails a gratification to patience and a shallow justification to waiting each time guaranteed.

My coffee deflated

I've misplaced flare, hairy boots walk with strands for anklets. Beads consecutive awake and soaked by some. I drank some. So I'm loyal to enough.
Finding a quest is the same verb covering it's self as a verb to what every body does as themselves, every day.
An overlap though a discussion so typically made to create tears about contradiction.  So those torn and shot are doing it wrong as the end meets, and the sky is covered like a blanket of stars that shine altitude as if we knew nothing more.
So alive as if we were swimming through the orange tinge of sand, drunk, trying to put a name to who we are if we're falling down a hill. As if it was so bad falling over. We need that script written as a scream for moments of living like Pink Floyd's smear of guitar dust and sound was apparent and untrustworthy, it seems. As these deem a lack of packaged expectation for my daily living these days, as the winds won't pick up the sand from that part of the desert I can see. Just as if my health was worth more to what I see. Gratified hesitation.
These grains I used to feel.

This is ramble ignorino

My eagle, my best friend I should have bought you flowers if I had another chance maybe, baby as I was wrong, I wrote the wrong warnings and sour it was I made you blink twice and worry I'm sorry.
Slumped and blown out now I copy that Roger and say I'm a burnt out race car. They've stopped now doll, there's no more than a dug up trech by society of ugly words and powerful monsters that are already paid for.
I don't rap anymore doll, I don't like wind runner jackets no more but Nike the friend I never had. I need to tell you and now I'm thinking new so apologies if this is shit but careless fashion I forget about on the occasion but a new creditability raised up to me the other week - of savvy brands that stock cotton fleece pants in one man's sad and trashed. It's shocking man I'm stolen at hand and by that I mean, my stuff's scanned. It's Richard allowance wretched and lukewarm to a likewise plead catch squirming to let loose and let go, and get lost.
They justice said worn what I am told now on the reg. Written maybe not but I think that's what they meant but this is special. I still am holding bold barely beautiful but beauty is beauty and so if said merely genderised by pure self compliment and belief, so personal Doll, I'm suffering and I'm exceptionally eccentric Towner judge to agitate the poverty waive.
I say there's no mean to language and a call to jump to what you think, yes I still believe in the letter as an intellectual infidelity to our daily bigger like a buffet is different to breakfast, even though we eat and devour and munch and nibble and swallow bad news and swallow our tears so we reframe turning into an outpour of blubbering wet mess for that moment which, by the way, I can't help but open my eyes dry and laugh and mind you, keep blinking cos I'll believe it. ---so it's sad when we cry. But it used to be sadder.
It's frowned down to spout the less if little branded they've already left. Saying if you ain't good you don't have a place. So I'll click my tongue at those who are crying because they've cried beforehand and fuck them, you could be worrying about what sort of person you are but these people aren't because they believe they were rubbed into the dishwashing job in their own life.
Which is a shit corner to stand, mind you and I know you're asking, 'are you? Do you dishwasher or dish wash your own life as if it was the duty of your life; to take care of yourself?' - I'll answer that amongst the churn of feelings I can literally see I'm supposed to feel.  There's chapters I can respond either they are augmented- that's for sure, or segmented like a worm peach surrounds my head like a turbo Doll I don't need to clean up in my life ever, if I want to get better About myself it's buying new clothes to make me feel better. How that works is a track of simplicity that's obvious as to where I'm going or want to go in the future. But I was shaped as this announced I will stay, I want to- but a program polar to Landmark deity about complication and eye contact because freedom of will and as anarchy is not comically taught but a trade in this world. My fashion trends doll on a weekly toll but they won't fade as it's everyday we dress to cross hearts and count the beats. Small countries alike we walk alone fashionably with an opinion costly and unjust we attempt as general civilians vast on experience and living. Either I'm dying max, or every one's fading and you care because you're not sure if growing up sucks or hurts more. I think the same. It just sucks. It sucks because it gives us an amount of gayness we can count yet don't agree with. All these artificial "perfections" everywhere we all just think it's barely boring, or they think we're swimming. Since when the fuck are we swimming? We're on the walk bro and looking good is the least of our worries as the lower pinnacle. Less is a difference that we make the feeling shadowing or glowing from ourselves when something good or bad happens. Those moments are supposed to be simple and independent, I think, like friendship. Why thank what has been brought because I don't have time not to exclaim anymore, I'm tied up to hardly sketchy and only trusting-clarity. Enough of my thoughts, I'm an absolute incredible mess changing the pencil I'm using to often when I'm trying to act.

Definite quiet defense defenseless dead I feel like flying all things come to an end call spiral cord looking twirling it with your finger playing with the ground eye contact taboo tattoo bamboo shutter pane pain game rain on the window sill. My bamboo my lips on my tea the rain calls me. Weary tears could hop hipster anime tragic wrinkly face. Running down streams streaming stressful sketch of surreal eyes third blind all upon the others reaction really strike them. Down they fall the tears red and fuchsia rats like them as tears we crawl. We are the cries howling however for the snob and snot of our enemies see and sea chinging - jingling keys face beyond busy stars stars and stars starships Noah's Ark square today above and upon Buzz Light year does not cry. But we do. Comically a copy collection creditable hands nails hammers nightclubs hardship hardship love King Street rodents shard jelly frizz authors vehicles dangling tangle tinkle twinkle design design decrease beneath hide we cry do we don't sleep by chills for thrills I won't rhyme now sun shiny day all the bad feels bills cost contains a frost misty feelings mighty more awake is slept underneath ample tranquil thin for horses thicker drinks we're raped paddling through the river of our teas. Thick for jazz microphone for soul speech forth rhythm and a box of magic racing raining magic magician made me sad-dad Sad-Dad stubborn man stuffed rest the cool collect unfunny man stop revealing your making sad-dad sad and doing dance dance dad move your knees groove for speak instead sadness madness we forget music tick drugs sapphire stores gemstone people crazy diamond shining mourning cries lost death difficult resurrect desire empire emerald flat plane more pain trainer engagement gallop plink stop seize halt tearing ducts ripped bawling bowls filled droplets smog a sneak shot smeared since young sad country swing unison need news union unity university slam sheep rape again. This is not New Zealand zero hearing heroes utter a towel to soak twice twice freedom how do we do so so strum our teeth squeaky like mice ordered music peaky publically roses spitty bum dalmatian eventual sticky and I can't howl nor hold now now stronger bails of hay to decoy vanilla ice baby pork chop Victoria market eroded errors dead swamp sold critical concoction living on romp more vanilla ice crisis so cry cry crystal nice price prove amazing serious jungle apology cos then consensual exclusive excellent except one sidedly and they say that rhythm I had no idea choose a choice there's room my mate tricks may sound tiles ting hill ball we roll they kill still n say we job just-just stutter this thing own bone tinkle cos I'm scares me was mean I exclaim I don't like jazz jewel ridden thin like horses tense shine and stream as the men who say sugar big that's it law it pour it if I sing look out above backs area see held up coat hanger. You poor thing

Rain tea

Tastes like boiling water (as usual) poured for a tea and with cold tap water as a garnish there you have tea that tastes like tea made from rain.
This is not a life cheat, and it does make you a better person regardless peppermint. With this tea:  sugar stirs -And stirs some more. A ramification to something that's missing a little something.
[Not a toll on your road to wherever your going, this tea is different yet severely vindictive to your daily needs.
With tea as barely a necessity easily quite missed by some; the cold water brings an upsetting cuppa taste and delivers an assumption of patience -waiting around your bench for something happier -not better.]

A personal statement choice of tea is at a percentile. -Earl Grey as raintea is in fact bearable.

So I've made this
You
Need
              A little bit more
To   feel  satisfied:

Don't you?

I'm tired of
I'm tired of enters and urging tiredness to a someone that willingly will cup their hands together and offered to catch my urine like when we were in the car and I exclaimed I needed to pee.
Cute.
I'll say it's cute but I think I need to commend this a little more. This shit doesn't happen often. And I would like to say, needing someone doesn't happen often. But everyone needs somebody to offer to catch their piss throughout those hardest times of not having a toilet to piss in.

My dad told me "people are going to get hurt real bad from the government in the next twenty years. Do something great. You need to save them." This made me cry today. didn't at the time but I was let known about the people I own in honesty only to care for yet also look after. That moment, I had to care about a mass amount of beings that had feelings, the thought and feeling of power and empowerment rose beneath my skin though not as detriment more so less than  and then to feel like we're all going down together thus bringing me to the thought I was one of the only one left.


My thoughts have subdivided and slipped into a spoken weave of shitty little words. Why can't I be who I used to be? I could have thought about anything that was in front of me, as I've got the exact same religion, this may be illegal for me to talk about but I can't fall for their same ways.