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renovationsmy mind looks at my bodyand says, "i don't like whatyou've done with the place."
this is for the hypocriteThere are two types of people, he's found;those who walk staring at the groundand those who walk smirking at it. The former are afraid of being alone of being rejected of being a little bit too eccentric to pass the standard and to make the cut for surviving the years when they care
LovelustYou are the moon,That crowned queen of the night sky,And I fall to you,A slain enemyTo an angel's sword,Stabbed through and through,I fall to you.Love? Love?Do not talk to me of that poison,That seeps through a fool's mindAnd brings folly, makes you blind;I won't fall to thatInsidious insinuation of affection.Not for you.Not for anyone.Not again.And yet I do.I love you.I wish to be with you,But without that whichWould come if I were with you.I wish to be with and without,With what I would haveAnd without what I will have;But all roads point toYou.You, what are you?A succubus?A goddess?The busThat rides along the roadAnd which I would gladly throw myself under?I would certainly throw myself under you.You.The great She.The great Perhaps;The master of me.Love. Love. Love.A loaded gun.A pain sweet as cyanide,And try as I might,I cannot hideFrom the lightning storm rageOf the notorious Perhaps,And it feels like a relapseTo fall into you.I used t