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Bloody RhymeOne, two, buckle my shoe.
It should've been me. Not her. Me.
Three, four, break down the door.
So many questions, but why, why, why?
Five, six, she's next in my mix!
I'd give anything. That's what I'd told the doctor. Blood, a kidney, a new heartwhatever it takes.
Seven, eight, piece of cake!
Three minutes and forty-two seconds. That's all. I left the room for three minutes and forty-two seconds. But he only needed three minutes and forty-one.
Nine, ten, bye bye Jen!
Bloody murder, bloody baker, bloody butcher, they said.
Eleven, twelve, I'll add to my shelve!
Flatline, they said, nothing they can do, they said.
Thirteen, fourteen, I'm getting quite keen!
I'll kill him, and then I'll kill me too. Because its my fault, and I'm guilty, guilty, guilty!
Fifteen, sixteen, is this the sister of that bean?
I'm the trap, and he's the mouse, I'm the bait, and he's the trapper.
Seventeen, eighteen, she couldn't have see
I'M SO BUSY Sorry! >///< I know I said I'd do some stuff, like "oh I'm doing this" or "sign me up," but then I didn't do anything. I really am sorry! I probably will get around to do whatever I said I'd do, but it will probably be late And this also means I will be unable to commit myself or participate in much anything anymore on here (for now)...
The reason I'm so busy: THERE ARE SO MANY REASONS. ;u;
"A single dream is more powerful than a thousand realities." Someone
I won't bother you with a long list, but to sum it up... School, a few auditions for this and that, moping about the guy-who-shall-not-be-named, projects, life, and OTHER peoples' lives. Oh, and I was thinking of where to get a job. I kind of always wanted to work at the movie theater...:u
my face is in so much pain right now and this is after I ate my self pity ice cream //sob
Let's go CRAZY, CRAZY, CRAZY,
'Til we see th
Falling AsleepHands shaking, fragile build.
I'm not sure how to tell you this,
My darling love,
This tragic news.
Hair falling, eyes watery.
Perhaps I'll just laugh it out,
Like a bad joke,
This inevitable confession.
Erratic coughs, painful winces.
"I'm fine," and "it's nothing,"
It's all a lie.
I'm so sorry.
Searing fevers, electric chills.
No doctors nor nurses,
Volpi.You will find that the story you tell
is very rarely your own. In Lucca,
even the smallest pebbles
breathe in the warm sunlight.
Knotted stones and cobbled roads
beat out a paper-dry heartbeat heat
my city breathes in and out,
inhales sparrow air.
It's writing a story.
You are the pen.
You will find that in Lucca
the daisy chains forge fire
in side streets and back alleys.
Teenagers intertwine. Tell me,
odd flower, are you still closed?
Here we are colored wax;
the heat of the city melts us.
We run into each other, rhapsody
of pigments. Operas are our specialties.
Open up; feel the reds.
If not, try and see them. There is a place
of deep knife marks, a street
long as midnight
you may learn something there.
Valentina's voice glimmers like red wine.
You may enjoy intoxications. Still,
know alcohol has no story
and will swallow your own.
Find the sign with the wolf on it.
You'll know the place. Epiphanies ring true as church-bells.
Lucca still guides the wanderers
to well sp
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