Lets Get The Tummy Rumbling.

The time where you vomit everything stuffed in your chest
is not much of a unified feeling.

It is more of a strange reaction
from the root of your base to the fruit of your growth.

Fact of wrapped relationship
is that nothing changes until you decide to.

Subtractions occur
within the bond inside.

Glowing touch
gets the nerves alive.

Stories of broken windows to your reflection
get my eyes.




...........................

I am not much of a cool friend that slips mushy notes for you everytime you are feeling blue. In fact comforting others seems to be the exact potion I lack in relationships. Even the idea of blurting it all out on the net bothers me. I just can't help myself refraining from expressing my feelings blatantly. Though, my secret messages are often neglected due to no one having received the instant drink to make my words comprehensible. The psychology test agreed. I am either going mental or I am too far off the surface of reality. Either way, I still have the soft blue monkey inside my head to amuse me.

Ps:

Friend, you need no senseless fashion idiots to brighten up your mirrored picture. Even without the blazing thunder of your hair colour, I still see you as the crazy-cat-hater evil red-headed woman. No hipsters nor models could do the same effect on any kid.

Friend, you're silence has bothers me since I don't have a clue on ways of contacting you. The neighbour of yours feels the same and it is understandable, considering your weird fetish for anarchist. :)

Friend, with time and distance hindering our friendly arguments, I do have to make it clear, your constant reminder of me being a horrible person will not make me a better one. Keep in mind, I have a strong need to piss every person I know. How I wish I could be there when you least need me. The suffering you'd face is excruciatingly painful for me to imagine.

Friends, we had missed the jump in our past days but I have never stop the time of me thinking of each and everyone of you. Whenever my mother and I pass your dwellings, we'd talk about how fun it was struggling to get to your doors.


There, for Christmas, all I want is for them to get what I am trying to say. Regardless of what the man from the blind machine place wanted for me. He was being cheesy anyway 'Next Christmas, you'll have another hand holding yours'. Pfftt old people worries me. For the record, that was during last three Christmases. So much for wishes eh?