I sink into the anchor of your womb ..
Wednesday, October 5, 2005
Sunday, October 2, 2005
Roxy Birthday Invitations
this is the flight that I promise you
there are moments so beautiful that it can only be entirely beyond our control.
people create things, others are beautiful. drawings, films, slopes covered with books.
but nothing makes you feel like the things that nobody has and has not grown.
that you suddenly wonder.
when it starts to grow a pine tree
when the road turns pink and violet,
when you see the ducks swimming upstream to get carried away after one after another by the current, when the canes
hide the way you you walked years ago, when the sky
rather than colors sets of feelings.
when you feel so strong and so strange that you are in contact with the world,
not step on pavement and sidewalks and steps zebra grass planted,
are times when it is not you the one in contact with the world collects,
is the world suddenly comes in contact with you.
why some songs are so superior to others,
eternal
because the world gets you by the ears,
why you get sad when you see flowers have started to build a parking
and yet the world is calling you ,
loudly telling you all you have to teach you yet.
there are people who look the other way a blind eye
that poison
there are other things that cry, which collapse and wonder once again,
can be as beautiful as the channel between the world and you,
the world
things the world does not want to lose,
the silent scream of the beauty and sadness ..
¨ I 
Monday, May 23, 2005
The Best Go Diego Go Birthday Cake
brothersinarmz @ 2005-05-23T21: 54:00
this, as always, if anyone wants to read my comment and I add:) (who was going to tell me that besides livejournalera experience was to have a friends-only: __) and the same year!)
this, as always, if anyone wants to read my comment and I add:) (who was going to tell me that besides livejournalera experience was to have a friends-only: __) and the same year!)
Wednesday, May 11, 2005
Cheesemaking Supplies Edmonton
brothersinarmz @ 2005-05-11T21: 55:00
These days, is not as if all stay far away?. Holly called them red days, for me are simply dead time, as if under a plastic breathing. I do not want to put tildes and face reality, I have no desire to talk on the phone. I lie on the balcony and watch these white things flying in any normal day they put me in the eyes and make me mourn the saw fly up and down the chimneys and green roofs, tangled in the cactus and the laundry basket ..
I think there are too many things I feel and I only know me, too many things I'd like to share and I can not, a sort of purple smoke that is growing inside me and makes me skin leather, dries my eyes and some days I wake up at night. and not just a knot in my stomach, now "it", that reveals you when you're about to sleep.
J. buried six years ago and had never been there, and not even know why I went this time. had a dry rose wrapped in plastic with gold thread. It was ugly, too white, too ugly, and cry, not because I knew I had to mourn, weep because he could have picked a yellow flower by the way, I cried because I did not think that was buried with so many strangers, and cry because six years nobody has written a letter. I've never believed in such things, but it was almost insulting that anyone thinks about writing things, teach you how is everything. He taught me a lot.
I have to lie to the strongest person I know. having lost a son, two husbands for cancers of more than five and more than ten years losing a cuckoo clock that never marked a well-done, having nearly died in that hospital room so small, having lost his own brother will not hurt, forever and ever. She never tells the bad things, but I know they are there, and every time I look and smile scares me that not a single day I have cried, not a single day has come crying instead of your huge smile and pintaojos blue. She just talks about how beautiful were the streets in Austria, when I hid in the freezer in the store and I ate the butter with your fingers, Russian dolls and luck in life. Today has been diagnosed with Alzheimer's and will never know. once translated the song "Angie" and leave it at home, the next day, when you get home, I found over my table an envelope he had written: "Thank you for your letter I found on the desktop, I liked a lot, I love you, Grandma Angie forever." It was one of those things between bitter and sweet moves you, because it was written with many faults and it was incredible simplicity and sincerity. Thought I had written a song and I never take it out of their error. Only two years left until you forget our names. I have wanted to hug her and tell so many things that I've never had yet.
"drug addiction" is no longer a meaning in the dictionary. now it is so tangible it's scary to sit to talk. everyone just crying on their own and each one hits the closest it finds. problems, problems that only begin .. Saturday street and suddenly said, "is supposed to be the best years of our lives," y.. as this happens I am the leftovers in his history of two, and we look and play us normal people to see us apart. the same as after the clothes are placed, they put brown pants in the washer.
I do not know. I told this here and that's what crossed my mind all this while, but I'm not giving anyone or pretend that anyone is even up here.
why sometimes you feel so heavy when walking down the street, as if dragged so much biting the soles of shoes ..?
These days, is not as if all stay far away?. Holly called them red days, for me are simply dead time, as if under a plastic breathing. I do not want to put tildes and face reality, I have no desire to talk on the phone. I lie on the balcony and watch these white things flying in any normal day they put me in the eyes and make me mourn the saw fly up and down the chimneys and green roofs, tangled in the cactus and the laundry basket ..
I think there are too many things I feel and I only know me, too many things I'd like to share and I can not, a sort of purple smoke that is growing inside me and makes me skin leather, dries my eyes and some days I wake up at night. and not just a knot in my stomach, now "it", that reveals you when you're about to sleep.
J. buried six years ago and had never been there, and not even know why I went this time. had a dry rose wrapped in plastic with gold thread. It was ugly, too white, too ugly, and cry, not because I knew I had to mourn, weep because he could have picked a yellow flower by the way, I cried because I did not think that was buried with so many strangers, and cry because six years nobody has written a letter. I've never believed in such things, but it was almost insulting that anyone thinks about writing things, teach you how is everything. He taught me a lot.
I have to lie to the strongest person I know. having lost a son, two husbands for cancers of more than five and more than ten years losing a cuckoo clock that never marked a well-done, having nearly died in that hospital room so small, having lost his own brother will not hurt, forever and ever. She never tells the bad things, but I know they are there, and every time I look and smile scares me that not a single day I have cried, not a single day has come crying instead of your huge smile and pintaojos blue. She just talks about how beautiful were the streets in Austria, when I hid in the freezer in the store and I ate the butter with your fingers, Russian dolls and luck in life. Today has been diagnosed with Alzheimer's and will never know. once translated the song "Angie" and leave it at home, the next day, when you get home, I found over my table an envelope he had written: "Thank you for your letter I found on the desktop, I liked a lot, I love you, Grandma Angie forever." It was one of those things between bitter and sweet moves you, because it was written with many faults and it was incredible simplicity and sincerity. Thought I had written a song and I never take it out of their error. Only two years left until you forget our names. I have wanted to hug her and tell so many things that I've never had yet.
"drug addiction" is no longer a meaning in the dictionary. now it is so tangible it's scary to sit to talk. everyone just crying on their own and each one hits the closest it finds. problems, problems that only begin .. Saturday street and suddenly said, "is supposed to be the best years of our lives," y.. as this happens I am the leftovers in his history of two, and we look and play us normal people to see us apart. the same as after the clothes are placed, they put brown pants in the washer.
I do not know. I told this here and that's what crossed my mind all this while, but I'm not giving anyone or pretend that anyone is even up here.
why sometimes you feel so heavy when walking down the street, as if dragged so much biting the soles of shoes ..?
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