

.: wreck a reality :+once i dreamt of a world where;.: wreck a reality :+
children sank battleships in their bathtubs filled with bubbles and not bombshells.
hearts grew on apple trees and were mined like gold; precariously soft centered but
precious all the same.
scars were worn like artwork and
screams sounded like music.
choirs sang lies and
holy men spoke of truth like it was filthy.
revenge was a reward and
lunacy wasn't a curse.
guilt wasn't timeless and
dreams weren't like gold dust.
guns had wings and sounded like bells
instead of drums.


.: favourite :+when you take bites out.: favourite :+
of the sun smile wide so that the light can shine through.


.: life only lacks energy :+smile while your stomach fizzes and butterflies are born at the sight of shy, upturned lips. then laugh as realisation hits; force it. cry when you're alone, and life feels like lead in your insides. and scream because you've discovered that it's the only outlet you have..: life only lacks energy :+
smile because all the signs are there. then laugh as you realise the sun is suddenly shining. cry while your ribs are aching and sharp and shortening your breath. and scream when your head is pounding in time with staccato breaths and withering pulses; the soundtrack to a tragedy.
smile when you finally manage to


.: of shoes and ships :+mad as a hatter, thin as a dime. smoking in bellows, and talking in rhyme. feline grins and striped limbs talk of madness divine. parties laced with lunacy; at the table they dine. a red rage face matches a heart. paint roses fast before a head leaves a spine. dee's and dumb's tell a story, with a plotted design. the groveling ghost flits past, pale white and never keeping time. thrown headfirst into wonder where all is sublime..: of shoes and ships :+


reason no. 6:you arereason no. 6:
spilling your guts over a mass of wires- they are hitting the ground and
sifting through with a soft squelch.
i am walking across the room, murmuring to myself that i am going to get a glass of water- your mouth is still moving, lips too tilted and a tongue forgetting its place. my feet are making small slapping sounds over tile, smiling-out-loud from the rain's mark from our boots.
i am dancing across linoleum and it is cracked, water is spilling down my shirt, praising the air between my toes and the skin betwe
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[link]
):
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"Nie ma tak dobrze, rrrrobaczku..."
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i make them good girls go bad !
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www.kathrynjeanes.com
[link]
[link]
[link] ♥
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