I am sick

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Day doesn't matter: The coming of age

We live through watching energy fade. So, we stand by fuel as it burns. We comfort in the heat, only to give it away. Do we see others as fuel? Age of enclosure, of recycling pain and comfort. Words fade quickly, mistery multiplies.  The tired mind of a a mouth stuck with the idea of the original between everything that's already been said. To innovate, negate, to develop, build not upon. Words are meaningless. You will care not for them, for they won't satisfy anything in you. It takes to much just to burn like fuel. Oh, but don't you see, the mean will take your heat without you even knowing. You could have been merciful, now you're being robbed.
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Short text to overcome numbness

Goary desires through threads of angel dust Dispense noble gardens and roses of her lust Her eyes were growing eager with the love she had for me Her hands I never touched and her lips I'd never be. Si hey, ar trebui sa incepi un blog. Poate e o persoana interesata. Okay, I'll quit Romanian. I gave it a try, I can't talk like that for long. I hope this won't share it's fate.  Maybe it will be better to expose all my thoughts here, on a spec of dust that is a miserable link in the depths of the vast Internet. So please excuse this paragraph, dear innocent reader or me-from-the-future, as i explore the plethora of possibilities that lie (yes, L.I.E, cuz it's all a lie for you, you don't see things the way i do, it's subjective, it's my organic perception of this raw heaven i bestow with words upon your shivering soul)... was i saying..? Ah, the possibilities of making a blog and my foremost curiosity. I'll probably act retarded in the first f...
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Gunoi

Mergeam spre groapa de gunoi Eu cu sacii plini, ei cu sacii goi. In plumbul greu ma simteam vioi, Ei trei faceau dragoste in doi. Veneam de la centrala cea pe aburi Eu cu argintii-n buzunar, ei cautau prin lauri. Rupeam cu dintii de un colt de paine al unei ciori... Ei radeau, pe mine pa treceau fiori. Mergeam la groapa cu noroi Ei se scaldau plini, noi ieseam goi. Miroase a tei iar eu plang gunoi... Mai putin gu, mai mult noi.
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