paste! graves in the mouth of a silent child burst into architecture. the scenery is blacking out, faint and dislocated like a kennel full of shredded dogs. it's always the fault of atmosphere--in the spherical mist of his breakdancing, too many flies, too many little eye mirrors. 010811
Bizzar My thoughts go back and forth and twist and turn into an ever winding mass of nonsense, they bear down on my soul and bring upon the unwinding of my sanity. And if only I could make sense of the void imprinted on the backs of my eye lids, maybe the closing of my eyes would bring peace. 030331
mirage winding around me like a ghost, I can see the traces. they are faint. twisting and turning and glinting. tempting. I see the ghost of what I had. It is faint. 040526
what's it to you?
who go