yo, that's wack if i'm not the baddest


profile * old * mail * fucking sign it* or how about a nice note? you go forward / i'll go backwards


little things set you off on a rampage. you fell down the stairs, felt the back of your head and found your hair dyed red by cuts across your folicles. i cupped my hands to catch the water but it felt through when it noticed the arthritis. he offered a teabag to the wound but it decided not to make it with platlets. so my darling, i hold your head in my lap with a brick hidden behind my back with which i could break your teeth like a paper cut couldnt disable. how violent are our symphonies, enough so that with my limbs in a tangle and your eyes in a cross, we could feed one another breakfast cereals?
d-land