Have Air... Will Breathe

Nicotine rush. Fuck the world. Yellow fused light. Lone Wolf. Ronin. I fight my own battle. My own way. Coffee stains on tooth. Chocolate for later. And Air… I breathe. Eyelids. Blink. Colors. Rhythm. Air talks. Trance. And carries you. Up and down, a smooth, easy ride. Up and away. Balloons. Vibrations of the music make me swim. Warm and moist. Orgasmic. Smoke rings that don’t bother. Space. And me.

French accent and electronica. Music builds. Clear, clean sounds merged, fused together seamlessly. Repetitions which are obviously made to order for the barf free rides. Sway away.

Air never fails to trip me out.

Of Frozen Boogers and 'Blocked' Noses

If you read all of Calvin And Hobbes that has ever been printed (It isn't hard to do so, because sadly Watterson wrote/drew it for the papers everyday from 18th November 1985 to 31st December 1995 only.), take it from me, you will have all and I mean all of life's answers!

And even though frozen boogers can be quite a problem and some weeks just suck ass, you know you are going to be just fine because Calvin is around. *more power to disturbed childhoods*

PS: Someday when you are more lucky and I am more bummed/bored, I shall put up some of CnH so you can see for yourself how deprived you are since you DON'T have the whole collection! *sticks tongue out and goes na na na na*

To Pebbles, Laughter and The Night

I am an Opera Singer

I stand on painted Tape

It tells me where

I'm going

And where to throw my cape

I call my co-star's brother

I call my co-star's name

I play both good and evil parts

I sing to Verdi's play

And every single morning

By 10 AM I'm dressed

My rehearsals last for hours and hours

With diligence I have been blessed

Some people they call me monster

Some people they call me saint

My talent feeds my darker side

Yet no one will complain

I am an opera singer

I sing in foreign lands

I've sung for kings in Europe

And emperors in Japan

And after each performance

People stand around and wait

Just to tell me that they love my voice

Just to tell me that I'm great

I am an opera singer

I will sing when you're all dead

I sing the mountains crumbling apart

I sing what can't be said

I am an opera singer

I sing in foreign lands

Most people seem to know my name

Or at least know who I am

" Shit, these lines are so witty" *... witty... w-i-t-t-y... W-I-T-T-Y... play to fade*

I think Cake is brilliant.

I Dig Music.

That is that.

Goosebumps, tears, love, husky voices, getting lost, and finding myself. My songs speak to me.

I might not know an A minor from a G string! And a bar from a beat.

But I do know what transcends all that is here and all that chains me down. My music gives me wings and lets me fly a flight higher than any drug is capable of. I dig music. That is all I know, that is all that matters.

Life and Times Of Madam Cribsalot

Tired. Sleepy. Bored. Annoyed. Hopeful. Hopeless. And the 'kenny' syndrome has just struck... Will do anything for money as of now. Even play a sidey operations simulation game. Yay!

Lullabye

Of counting sheep,
Restfulness that I seek
In your warm lies
Dawn greetings and surprises,
Leftover hugs and songs
To listen for you