noble. one more dance in slow my vertigo.

. Well I wonder if I should act on my true instinct wanting to break mirrors if you never, ever break the ice . le Coeur presse les emotions qui les emotions are never to be found stable. Inhale. Exhale. Words you wear like tattoos. And I do it all the time . right now I am making sure to breathe in slowly and lower the tone of my desire.
Comfort I think i can feel comfort already I met you only 2 days ago. Seulement….

Pour un instant on existe, ensuite il ne reste que des mots . toi tu n’est plus. Le meme .
Some stories are meant to be and only their memories light in your dreams are veil soon to be faded away. When you grow from a broken boy to woman, no one dares to read your fortune life’s history, they never mention your heart’s rising so high in prays and feelings for the beloved. deathless. Until one night the moon turned away and gloomy a sky poisoned grey, the stars led astray towards fear , invisible for your eyes. the beloved
L’histoire aura toujours une fin, but dauntless are a muse is charms . by rapture they are drawing a story just me, an act so grand it’s worth a life time . they lure and their shadows in the space beneath my eyes sedate, my eyes, my bones and my heart in flesh will vanish in dust and lovely colors. I dare anyone to step over my passions and I will set the killer in me, set him free to protect what I live for. Stay brave and resist to death, the lost you already felt it , leaving you forsaken child. As ever. I have not forgot how to pray, and I wait serenely for the day my love will carry herself away. then in sounds of melancholy my life will redeem in piece .


and there we go, i am gonna spare no one tonight.. only if i could show you why o why i let go so easy it almost feel violently my emotions. hit me with your best shot.
i keep my mind aware,there is a way with whom words will make my heart sway the way i wish you would be there to learn tango so slowly. let go.

i wear my heart on sleeves since i met you, even before. but soon i will wear it arround my neck... please forsaken me... let me slid.

extraits du passe. second round.

Are you o.k. you just asked me!
Yes! I am . you asked so.because I am drunken by desire, I float in the days, in memories, even the ones who has left me with a pain that really isn’t. it’s romance. It’s the luxury of my lifll those nights riding my bike in a hell of a hurry towards the girls of St-Henri. Who would have thought the ocean black was just near by the prince of Italy. The sea is dead, la mer morte, loin de l’oublie.

Dare asscefazione… to be addicted. In amoretti.

I need not even to say or ask. I just love to feel that way like I am still in love with you . fuck I have just said the words, why . cuz you are more then what I even know I adore. More then any perfected lust, there is nothing such. Si si I am talking about you, I will wait only a little longer before I type, l’echoe de ton nom m’est deja assez. What ever I dare say you are not there to even pretend understanding a punk like me.
look at me , punk my ass, you saw the black I adore, or the holes n my shoes, my pants I refuse to wear any longer then a three quarter, I am a tramp, a classy one, you know the kind who if only it could be more easy would drink my scotch my body on the railways, still in a glass with ice cubes. It’s better that way. Cold. Lemonade. Understand me not, it doesn’t matter I don’t like it when the people who barely know me are poorly trying to relate in words my life and it’s sweet chaos, seriously if they wanted a story about my peripetie, I’ll give you hell of a good one, but you got to look me in the eyes, where they are no lies.
The days are sober I am still an obsessive junkie, for coffee, for cigarettes, for sugar will you be my sweet. No you want no heart . perfection is a better drug of illusion then any I’ve ever did, meaning a lot. You made me realize how much it showed the way I wear heart on sleeves, suits me. All the memory painful drops onto my toungue . I am here with another you. A purple reality, while you are busy with such inoffensive wifes colored pastel. You did not see me. A rain fell in to my skull to create my muscle me. The bones I carry it’s easy, but then will come the tragedy you once called it misery. I feel sorry but not really even sorrows they have no morrows for the now. Remember you said you like my toungue when it inks a living forwards the day. But I enjoy the dreams better then you. I can’t let go of all I can’t truly have. I know you don’t always chose who holds you in, you cannot be the girl with the most cake. Right now I am still the happy so. I choose to live on an emotive diet. Passion I mentioned , is another reality, and I dream of it’s taste like the way I dream of a drug so strong who will never reck my body or memory. O healthy love will you dare kill me.. or will I dare beg you again to pull the trigger. Pull me closer .
and my true love waits, ride rode . My legs in motion endless I came back. Have I cried… for you. Maybe more then me. I am by now in Toronto . I also forgot to confess you my latest sins. Hear me only, I don’t need to be forgiven. I’d rather not.


end ( pour l'instant )

don't forgive me i can stand for my sins are the sweetest thing to ever possess me.

mettle hush

mettle

noun
the courage to carry on; "he kept fighting on pure spunk"; "you haven't got the heart for baseball" [syn: heart] ...
fuck i love the dictionary. it has been long since i felt this hunger for words, the best is when i see the terribly kind seamstress of st-henri we could probably sound like we are talking about a love affair and it is. you reach the point when you develop an ear for every word, the sounds they make, and right away you'll recognize the good ones, they are melodic, poetic. simple . no . not so simple. i rarely heard someone talk to me with such melody. spoken words, but randomly is another story. i'll always remember 2 years ago on new year at most chaotic phase of the bellamuse, before the crash down final. when i cease to care, it was better to just run it t'll it's time is over. ses heures comptees, and i cried, and i did everything, work like a maniac, steal for the sake of it survival, i screamed for help. Instead i remember my good friends all praying for it to come down, hoping i would do too. but they had no clue i would drop in such deep land. the streets are actually more sweet for me then the way my mind felt roughly lost. lost.

Peut importe, i do not feel like telling you a triste story, doesn't mean you can actually hope for a reggae song, that shit makes me cry usually. so to finish the new year phonetic tale.new year and my first love from the time i use to be little, petite Margo. Miss Christine de Sevigny, only warmth by now can be felt in the distance between us. we created an island stage in the middl eof my loft, candles, guitars an dmusic, it was morphine playing an dthe drugs we were holy high better then this. mdma.
and my lips getting closer to her ear i began to speak out loud '' letters to the beloved'' i had wrote just ago in the bath tube drowning ink. i would have cried back then in echoes. Although that night my voice so soft and husky even i was impress by the result, illuminations. spoken words it's called. see i have never done it, but shame on you or i mean poor you if you would read me in silences, i don't even do sex in silences. seriously i would love to include a cd to all of my books. like children
story, actually i should have kept that idea a surprise.. i notice i am different tonight sitting in my brother in excess law, he's in New York, and it feels funny my sister is here too, she met some of my friends which as always been nice, but right now i feel finally calm thinking of it, but i had asked gently the castle of St-Henri to help me get away from my tree house for one night, to write and chill the fuck
out. Family is ... Family, hard to get away with it.

the next verse i leave you, found again from the past, this excavation drop right in my past show me how reality isn't yours to posses. the girl i love who in act of silences let me no script of her ending, well there is an introduction to it. but she left me enough clue to lead me into suspicions clear enough to justify my love and brighten up my heart, fasten it's rhythms to release it's red liquid well-defined feelings. if i were to blame you, i would be worry what if the judge with no mercy decide to frame your act over my heart and entitled you as the stabbing darling, the girl with eyes so sharp like cutting blade it wasn't enough to cut me out, alone.
of course i pushed inspiration so far and dreams comes true, but the real dreams are unpredictable, you decided to show me how deadly your love could be, forgetting this feeling is tender if we make it last together. you played me safe, pulling the trigger deep into my heart, your eyes loaded bullets you thought you could just shoot me through like a rocket lover, oblivious you expected me not to react , and there goes your mistake. how could one not see, when all he felt since the first look into her eyes was enough to enrapture his convulsive desire . hopes or wishes.

i doubt so, now that i am still awake everyday i wait, for twilight to take me inside my memories. and the meaning of feeling .. i give it to you, read but don't you dare to pretend that the meaning, it's feeling is any yours. some will say i have been punished by an obsessive i call it fate. if ever again i could replay the scene in which i have ever hold you. in my arms. but au contraire les souvenirs qui m'habite are the ones in which i am holding you with shiver in my bones, hold you in sensations the way fine blades will carve in stone. but you are no stone, crystal de ces vagues hankering for them to take me away. But promises . i would make sure never to amiss emotions, sensations they were meant to be yours.
i have found o so lucky a word to reveal the card of my destiny. presage au loin j'ai observee les soleils variable. i could, maybe should, but as for now even sweeter they predict my title to be the one of a pious lover.
yearn·ing (yûr'nĭng) Pronunciation Key
n. A persistent, often wistful or melancholy desire; a longing: a yearning for romance and adventure.
Je ne vous dois rien, mais ceci n'est qu'un appetizer for ce texte qui jamais n'arrivera a sa reelle destinee, bien-aimee...

elle s'en est tiree in leaving that bullet silver une condanation divine a l'amour qui ne saura mourir. a holy fucking lifetime, es una vita ... the bullet who had an anchor so strong as steel, making a love nest... lonely ness inside me.

you were there for me today... my love , i remember the name for ever. lucie

is writing & lightning can hit me, incorruptible my heart abide by it's love ...

really i should be writing the endless pages of fine lines of words,words again from my book, but that's boring after midnight even,no matter how your body et votre cervelle est fatigue, it' s better to let it go, then to read and copy so. i left my bed too early this morning on my way first to a new beginning, working. and the strengt it took me to resist the envy so crazy to come back home and play more with the words i adore. but i felt some kind of guilt for the man wanting me for company, so i left in a car with him, 35 seconds later i knew like stone i would not last the day. but how could i tell him, i felt bad, what do i say, sorry for leaving but it' s quite fucking boring the life you run, and not even worth the money i need to survive by wasting my time here with you '' i took him to the mont-royal pretending we could go and walk each our own side of the street and meet each other in a little while. so i walked acting my way until i saw the perfect gate to my serious escape, alley cat walking fast avoiding all the main road in case he would feel like following me. damn was i free again, thank goodness. i find it harder every time now to get back in the world of pretending, that you like to do the shit you care not for. i am an actress not a salestress. the whole day went by numb and awake, few words from out of me, i wrote all kinds all day, then my voice fading rusty sounds when Althea came back, it was then i realize i was the one needing a break, elsewhere with the friends that always make you feel o.k. i got save by familiar land, lady pirate behind the bar, smile at me and indeed the feeling is warm, and i sat a little shaky until music gave me the best smoothing shot, hit me with prayers, by the madonne. oldies have always been a savior key for the end of my day. after the visit of my sexy dawg, and miss may i felt o.k. to leave, in peace , well some kind of peace back home, while i can steal an hour alone in here. so quiet when i am alone here, and i like it. i can't take much, no more, music scares me if there is too loud of a chaos in notes .

''nothing compare to you '' last night at the very last hour before sunrise, usually the time i run in discipline under my blankets to find warmth and make sure i don't see the new day before this one is over. now i do need and like this fragment, mediane to slice them apart. even with an hour of sleep i feel better, but it doesn't last forever this strengt. i wish for times to appear giving me no other choice but to watch films and sleep. every time i go back to family it always begins with a dense, profond sommeil et une paresse a n'en plus finir. soon i'll be craving for something like that. soon.

later that night, i had been trying to get un extrait from the book just for fun, this craving for words i search the dictionary wanting better words, more special you know. but the fun went dropping fast with the arrival of thunder sister, and lord do i feel like i would rather be expatriate from my own tribe on a night like this, walking in towards me raging for what , for fucking food she gets given as a gift, for free, but o amazing she can walk better then me. more likely she is not busy with her dreams asleep. i know the feeling when you are swallowing constantly the taste of creation in your mouth , there is much fear to throw out. let go . what exactly are you scared off, the spit who could fall on your shirt, on your shoes. really, would you rather get some stranger drooling on your chest, or pasta sauce on your chin, then paint. paint is the only medium who will stay, and be remembered on another day ... i am up in my tower finally quiet again, but what i am seaking is peace, inside me . and i am getting sick so when the people's act around you gives the impressions that you shall follow the day on trial to see if true you o crime took more of what is brought then what you can provide. well my heart and trust and loyalty is priceless and so those inner weapons my friends should carry always aware that burning lava could be crawling to get you. and your ally with a belly empty will i bet defend the weak and fierce energy he has left to save his own ass. lord am i sounding so drastic and fatal, of course i forgive and know how to, but as much as my memory can be lacking lots of day, in the details i looked twice and it gets brood over in my mind quite easy. i am a little drastic but the place to be, feeling down against the wall with someone having the last word so easy on the verdict final of where you can stay. i need a home , i need to feel safe even when i am self auto drowning myself and the feeling to tell me i need to cover myself and not to count on my family... then life tough me to stay strong, stand for yourself, but the tristesse and souvenirs annoying to recall, they are the one to weakened the taste i could share and the joy i am able to act out when needed...

Thinen my love then i will turn into a raptor . starving still. so please don't go there. it's worth nothing but to loose the strengt you should use to express your dreams on canvas then maybe i might give your rage true respect.

choir of the st-hellvenly railays.

tonight i am impress how well, and almos easy we manage to capture our dearest most unrevealed singer, the girl who believed in counting so much black sheep backwards through daylight, walking the alleyway would make her voice perfect in silences. she was just slightly wrong but that's not the point of the story, so let's just forget about the things to change. i have said before, i do not write good, but truth. well. maybe all of my midnight's angelic voices have vanished long already ago . so there is no light et vous ne verrez aucune faille dans cette histoire , seriously i saw it in my feelings, with a stetoscope pushed in my throath you can actually hear. god i wish you would be here to feel it. but ma ''girlfriends have slept away, the grande princess who could stand so well, awake and she might forget the children inside, but i adore the innocence she believes it dead maybe. ask her. run for her. so sad you have no clue how to be really a gentlemen, who cares if you are a man, gentle tiger you are not so secure when comes to moving arround her, and there is no way to impress her. it makes the struggles even better. if you are an ounce of what they call a lover. awareness you should try, but don't you get even a little excited. if you are willing to get closer and look into their eyes wanting a pretty fucktop playmate, o am i hoping for you will be right of a player. i . am the cryptic lover, who was meant for the best torture ever, a cult for the beloved who became water, strangely after a spell of mother fear of the muses . but we are childrens of the greatest navire de pirates qu'il n'est jamais existe, le gloomyhearted ship.
he did never sink really it was a slow process of melting, hard to believe but who the fuck are you to even think of it as surreal, we were there holding to the stars so high looking tenderly at our love, our home , fading away. how does it feel ! close your eyes , imagine .

''your heart loosing it's way''

if you sleep the feeling is quite nothing, it's in the dream awake maybe if lucky tu vas appercevoir les traits si fins du visage de ces enfants de choeur. when the ship vanished in deep sea, the blacksheeps were kind enough to feed the milk our little sister needed to spit it even further up the walls of the world they live in, injuste les murs se sont dresses au carre.
there is no infinite in this life they tried to make us believe in, it doesn't last. but i became so bored of every one so clear , their eyes so small i kept looking at the ocean, and on a fine full moon night i heard one of the most gentle voice ever.
the ghost of a siren dancing in front of me, awaiting for me to stand, like a man. how could i do such thing, i am no christ to walk magically on the water. she moved in semi-circles slowly towards me , and took my hand. the most gentle touch.
the princess of heaven next to her becomes a lie, so rough and sour taste. you don't understand, une sirene devant vous se dresse de noir, in black so suede a color you have seen that day for the first time. your eyes felt melting over beliefs, the way you sway in front of a mother you dare the lie , drop in the back of your eyes, on my knees close enough to be seen by the starving sharks. no one will see , she is too much precious for you not to see, the look in her eyes them feeling blue, compassion maybe for me, i knew she would let me be. we danced, to an opera de luxure si jolie, an answer in violin to the gods pervert watching, mad to see i was still there, holding on to the hope i would not loose this one and last dance with the one already i was devoted to. she moved her lips so close to me, i could hear her words, and they were gloomy but i could feel, breaking echoes loud enough in whispers letting me know it was an immortal spell.to last for ever. so i reacted fast, in the eyes begging her not to leave me forever, and somehow i grew up in my head so fast, the most precious smile for me, beautiful like the fine lines of a blade into your heart, flesh and solid like stone her intentions were not, to question, it's a curse on me, on her , on all of us .... and while my choir sisters had been still on the beach i took a second to turn and see i was not alone . alive. hurt and acknowledge of a flavor so sweet you wil crave it t'll your death..

no mercy for les enfants cheries. why would it be ainsi for us . why would it be easy. tell me so or fuck you i will tell you.

love becomes my pregnant murder. fatal l'amour qui nait se meurtrie si tot . my blood est d'un rouge velours, runs like a bullet silver, only a crazy lover will manage to pull the trigger.

so close to her i couldn't hear her say, i lost a lot that day in the winter. sorrows for me i saw the affection last feelings, i was doomed for a sntenced life as a choir boy unsinkable, i would dream for winters ad winters for the ice on water to grow thin so we would all press in time, drop the clock heavy on the glass you live in, doesn't matter it will not break until you can see the love we got given is inside, le coeur de crystal, ruby con deadly. and carve your name on the surface of my heart, so i will promise to be brave, and cherrish the twilight.

now. we are older, somekind of wiser, fearless are the kind of ugly chicken i refuse to eat even for diner, no flavours, and if you are a tresor seeker, you will dig, in days to find the precious. my friend there is more to this story, and i'm smiling because i am far from a fairy teller but i am careless of the result for now, all i know is to remember when to let go. after twilight comes the time where you can see, when the moon for our eyes only becomes a mirror reflecting your ocean lover. the one you agreed to be a prisoner away, like it never mattered she could do anything, to the depts of your sins and make you what, a favor she tought it would be easier to exist in lands away from each other. . . but love who she tought would be gentle when found again, broken appart in the end when i fall, le contour d emes emotions est intactes , i tried to be brave and never give up, but for that you have to fucking fight for your love not to fade, and for the memories to stay still you protected them with the look of a serial lover, blade in my eyes, you better be there if you make them cry on and over, stay.
you hold me not and i draw you into an enemy, worth l'oublie. je crois que j'y arriverai, a ne jamais laisser au courant s;effacer les marques de ton nom sur mon coeur je jure mio bella amore...

are you nuts, if she trusted her strenght to be used in all their senses just to stay under water, to breathe, to hide, to feel safe and to la mer she fed her lies. no matter how solid a heart, there i sno pierre precieuse pour restiter au courant.

les vagues t'emporterons.

dress up the truth

ma soeur vous disiez

'' all i need is love and a latte...'' by Althea Mamaril.. sous la pluie divine et des larmes de crocodiles finalement tombe.
il plet, et c'est tres bien ainsi .

lettre de reves rupture. pour moi seule

derriere mes yeux j'ai sentie le verre se briser, en moi.

dear you... i was about to begin writing i do not have a clue what exactly on my blog, with many doubts it will sound that poetic or nice or why shall i even care . but i do. and i remember times from my past when romy would om eto teh bellamuse when i tried to quit drugs and there i sthis one time i will never forget , where i was lying in the gallery , the walls empty but inside of me there was my blood feeling dry, and the dryness starting to burn my emotions a little too much, that day i smoked in this room so much rocks t'll the life you use to carry is cracking like the vision of dream is fading. and don't know why exactly i had the guts to call the one who cared by then so fucking much for me, mostly she always carried a part in a heart i see when she looked at me with hopes i would live without it, without all the shit i run so easy too whenever i am craving for passion, o all the feelings so called beautiful even strangers will be triggered, and i. i handle myself, but i act like a fucking child who wants to grow the wrong backwards, a 26 yrs old me, feeling older then i am, feeling ready to die. i know i am not full of lies, far from it, because fuck sake i would write it all in a fire already burned down. it's hard sometimes when my efficient inner psychology helper gets in the portrait, pretty fast and not bad at confession, he holds a way , knowledges so pure and a strenght like a tiger to heal, not a key but the exact way to clean inside, this voice qui resonne trop fort dans ma tete whenever i fail under this headspace so heavy, frozen already i still pretend it's a comfort, doesnt mean it's a feeling. they. are lost, an di am found, alone. on a night like tonight, i am glad i stayed alone, i hat ebeing in crowds when i cant smile in my head, and i every words in my head i know already so far from th esounds of happy reggae. and miggan called since she wanted someone to appear at a party with people i tried for a second to communicate , and it took me a split one to know not every one i seven aware of how much one is eyes can hold so much. it's o.k. i force myself every time i do wrong to forgive and i pretend the regrets are invisible. and this is exactly the look into my eyes right now. i said to a girl long ago in an alley dark o fmontreal the day she told me she was leaving the city, and the ocean would remind her of me. i cried and told her, le cou d'une femme c'est un crystal precious, fragile, the kind of crystal you be careful not to brake. and now when i think of times going by, i saw her recently, still we talk friendly i am not bad at all for keeping and feeding the friendship i care for.
at least i am making an effort. but i remember the scene that night, and it was so intense, i fell under the moon maybe hopeful sh ewould spare me the pain, and i have a bad luck and a heavy heart, and let me spare you of the love i like to say was going to grow in a calm tornado with me. these days it feeds me empty or this rage i know does exist. the people i dream a little but i hear the lover talking like a fool he dared laughing at me, whispering for the time she said she loved you, like a tragedy i think nobody will love me the way she did. chances are the truth i felt in her eyes was hers but also the reflection of mine. it my heart was giving to a lie then it drives me even more crazy . it's duality all over , the hope resist, but the drastic makes it hard for me to do the radical i dream to change. change for ever. without loosing who i am . when i get so sober, by forcing the life outta me, it's slow and it gets so hard i am bored and sad looking, i feel then the shit i burned inside me. ... and what else... shut your fucking mouth already margo yo ucould have forced yourself to sleep, but these nights i lay in bed an dforce myself to be blind and no notice of my body he exist. and i feel it then the love is down there stable hungry at me, and my soul floathes in the air so close under clouds. i don't call them the dreams of my life .

Duras l'a dit et cette phrase je l'ai compris. un ecrivain seul c'est de la folie, car rien ne l'arrette. j'avais peur seule mais j'ai jamais fait un geste pour que quelqu'un ne vienne.

i'm happy . sad . going inside me . mother can we stop into the zoo. le zoo.

dear time, i have been blessed well in my kind of church'n'blessing. after nights i saw my oldest friend and sister by now drinking and pulling out an act of inner evilry. and i had forgot why have we been so close from city to city. to the girl who just like me was born to grow a little crazy . i've develop this thing they call loyalty, and in the end she is hell-o-worth to stay arround so, to struggle with the tough nuts hard to crack up. and this one was somehow broken from the inside. so i have to be gentle. which i can do, cuz i dream about it to like no one knows.
tonight i played the good old chemistry specialist, and left for a midnight ride , long ride, and we have imagination better then any education... so much sweetness and emotion , drunken not, only we are not truly sober, but what really could it matter , i have seen it matter before, in love and in lost. and in the end, i have nothing to hide, or do because someone would wish me to.. i want to feel with people. and my sister tonight we went back into roots, the word we whispered in between euphoric art and beauty and pain and just straight damn bring it up, there is not much puzzle we together have no chance to solve. no au contraire when we reach harmony, it works. o so fine, it's tender listening still we are gonna end up in the zoo, but tonight it's not a sad sad zoo. trust . peace inside is a safe but alas the not so easy road to follow. but it will show you love traces inside of you the essence of pleasure, but also lost ... and you will keep going your way solid you know peace is another form of mental ejaculation, one that comes very naturally.

good god, i just took a look at one of my handwritten journals, thinking maybe i could start tonight more of that re-processing my past in proses, but to read and type and read re-type, is pretty boring when instead i could just move my fingers on the keyboard , i seriousely rarely think ahead of the next sentences, i don't hear it then oh, write it.. it's not a note reminder of what there might have been after,no no no it's called guts on paper 101, the class i took long ago. lifetime study and trust me i'm devoted like no one else.

an hour ago althea played a cd of amazing tando with female voices, old skool, she was dancing in movements who can only be born after emotions. and for the second time ever i did the spoken words sit-up performance... real long text and fucking hell i had picked the good one , even i was surprise os teh rythmns, words falling hard so soft .
of course it hit you so hard nights like this you feel fine, but althea and i are rare to miss an opportunity to pretend we could do more, create. stable. ( laugh ) ( laugh again the whole time i am silent ) stability runs strange with my blood, what i like is comfort an ddiscipline is teh best also the ardest . altough there is a voice in the back of my mind, lie the others she won't get away with it, down down .. the voice who's whispered strike always on how i could terribly stay solid, and face time, slowly going by, instead of playing speed illustrated life in a zine... fuck that, arn't you the one who know by the now, you don't fit in a zine, too fat .. . i could take it personally and say fuck you , not fat bt too deep . and details.

it's just another fact, simple i have too much words i need to break free somehow else i doubt it would be healthy ..

portishead playing ( i can mention it's so much past . )

in october i know the sun is still asleep at 6'08 ... if he comes up too bright, althea and i have decided to throw some breakfast fine cuisine at him...

we went to play in the zoo, i can't tell you about it, secret for isomniak. get to know me and we'll see.

i'll write you a note another day .. long note.

soirs de pluie ne m'accorde pas l'oublie.

just now again the souvenir of you rest inside me , an di obsessively look at it...
what if .. you think the same thing at the same time. when we sleep and feel better .
i want you to... i want to see you when you are arround. .

you are gone. but not erased. ink. mark my words, ink. willl live , even when i get rid of the body , ink stays.
i am in love with rain, i let it soaked t'll it gets to the bones. teh rain is so small, only when you fall in sea, teh story of my love will looked so god damn empty. o heavenly wil i die before my love.
i don't create perfect lies, certainly not for someone like you .

''Sors-tu du gouffre noir ou descends-tu des astres?
Le Destin charmé suit tes jupons comme un chien;
Tu sèmes au hasard la joie et les désastres,
Et tu gouvernes tout et ne réponds de rien.
Tu marches sur des morts, Beauté, dont tu te moques;
De tes bijoux l'Horreur n'est pas le moins charmant,
Et le Meurtre, parmi tes plus chères breloques,
Sur ton ventre orgueilleux danse amoureusement. ''

these are obviously words from another, one that painted often my dreams with words that are only beauty.
i finally and hopefully came back for the last time, toronto behind it feels just fine. i tried to explained why does even days so triste in the end i feel good in montreal, the comfort surrounding me in streets empty, it never is empty no matter how lost one can be. there is no feeling being sranger to me. outside is looking closer to the way it should, fall. rain fall and wind moves faster then i do. i have lost the aggresive me when i ride my bike, i find myself in slow motion, people passing me by but it doesn't matter anymore. as long as my eyes can see, streets in my city by day always makes me look like i'm on drugs, i can't stop looking at every person arround me , in case i would know them. just to see. home sweet home , so small but o lucky my mind is wide enough to host my heart , blood runs. alive . far from dead.

attention have left me . you can call it a.d.d. or am i lacking words, i doubt so. it's funny i find my handwriting better then any of the shit in here, i keep it for my book, but i'm acting a little to carefull for the web, why should i care. because i get hard on myself, demanding. finding my words not intense enough, common it's not like i need to be falling under graves just to tell you how deep and dark it is. what if i tell you how sunny my lolly day has been . not. then the audience of ghost and beautiful strangers would possibly be suspicious of me. if really you think i hang out lots with misery then we will probably never meet ouside on a same kind of night, i visit the space in nights when you are sleeping, i do less, since mostly i like to remember my deams awake. so early tonight , my heart is slow an di do feel it, even drugs would not affect me, he's floathing in his own little ocean , slow waves t'll midnight, then i am the one by mistake creating a storm for him to beat it , through. t'll morning rise for him to grow tender again. tender, makes me hungry, but i am not hungry in my mouth, only in my mind.

shut me, remembering only pain will never be better then anything, it's just a way we have to pronounce verdict louder. but i want pleasure that feels true, sex is meaningless right now, i want sweetness deep ,wise enough to fade your fears, transparence away . i want tears in my cereal when i awake, and once they will appear. and it's gonna be just what i have been craving for. fine release cuisine .
i saw my body running chased by something else it wasn't beauty. i ran faster, like a monster, like a monster lover.

silences for now. i'll save the twirl fast moving i saw in the distance, i am good at instinctive predilection. it's never a bad thing to do handwriting, more... beautiful.

la suite ... baudelaire a un jour ecri, peut-etre aussi a force de regarder l'ennui on decouvre si tot que la pensee, meme obsedee est bien meilleure amante, lovely when my eyes you tought them open, wrong i can look straight, but all i saw comes from the past i recreated my way .

''Que tu viennes du ciel ou de l'enfer, qu'importe,
Ô Beauté! monstre énorme, effrayant, ingénu!
Si ton oeil, ton souris, ton pied, m'ouvrent la porte
D'un Infini que j'aime et n'ai jamais connu?''

vous voyez, ses ecrits plus tendre dans ma vie , que ces foutue jours de pluie glacee, longue heures je n'ai rien a regreter .


i am too lazy to read my test for another time to correct the mistakes there could be .

love is the only blood i'll let my life be fluid... ( and my body futile )

this text will be long, truly long and explainning in the end. for now sad but true i only have a few seconds to say .
the more i see gone the day , it reflects like a sharp knife i don't even feel the pain. i have been diving into my past in words of love and romance to realize what is. who really i feel towards, and who i respect like i don't even respect reality compare to you Cuz i feel it when you are down, and i would liike to go even a little lower just to get there on time . the clouds you could trust enough to let yourself fall endlessly.
falling i have been low enough to spare time rebuilding the lather road strong metal you climb and please come up, on the surface where our feelings are shinning red and black we could melt the world . is white and lazy compare to the colors i see when you ride across my mind..

i will be clearer then ever . later . like crystal. you are beyong any diamonds. you remind me of how childrens get so happy in their smile when they reach the ocean ... the sea inside me is about to change it's colors.
i never lied to my own heart . it's a crime to die without it. and maybe in the end, honesty will trick the story meant to be fairy, who grew real enough for me to face the murdereded love i claimed so crazy how much i wanted the water to stay dark. the colors were always black. and there is days when i get thirsty insane and i get scroll back memory of the liquid feeling so pure, the kind of blue you open your eyes and nothing burns, the sea so sweet no salt . no more. i am not that cheerful because the conclusion created is different but none the less fatale. you still know only when your heart beat slow, is when you start breathing this ocean of love, you rest and there is nothing left to be felt but the love you injected yourself with. i shall say a better ending then the night you slept and cheated your own life with heroine.

it's hard to explain here , right now the way i saw it in my eyes, the way you came back, maybe to show me more sense, maybe to help in the redemption, making sure i don't spare another 8 fucking years beleiving in the feelings born to become empty. i am the one who decided long ago that my cancer was this feeling they call empty... and i looked so fiercely at life, to let her know she is not the one who will take me away the way she took my mother away , i will be the one to create the path , and as a lover only will i go back to her . but not now, i am not done dreaming, i am not done alone. nothing is over if there is still a love i have not written out of me without a single lies....

stay keen my little turtle grise. that's what you get for walking steady in the dust .

work as a friend to spy on where maybe exist this space where so gently you will let me go on my knees , never dominer but to honor those who inspire me,(aside) the memory lane pregnant which means so far the rails no one have rode through, one thing i can do is to polish the metal lisse because you know history will be traced by the motion to come. when traintramp is aware and knows the care he’ll put on those metal structures there to make sure for passengers to go all through the days , overriding is like overwriting our history. nothing completely to erase but it’s in the details that i wish to find a way to draw memory moving entrelacees avec le passe. quelquefois ce sont les lignes d’un coeur brise.
il y a plus que ca dans tout ca, mais quand je regarde l’expression dans tes yeux, tout ton visage je m’appercois combien troublee de facon si claire se dresse ton passe, au present, seulement on se tient si fort et s’acharne protecteur de son etre, les pires ce sont ceux qui osent s’acharner sur le coeur. we are not made of stone.et quand je dis troublee i mean maybe they are steady holding so much feelings locked together it creates an almost perfect illusion of a broken glass on a fogy night, you cannot see every feelings in beneath but there is light sharply going through. this is when i loose my attention to them.. it takes a hell of discipline and will to stand so solid even when your eyes are made of peices broken still. you must think i am insane to write beyond the casual conversation and to talk shit i am not a part of.

we are not stone, but fragile...

but i should tell you , i take the risk, in words only it leaves you times to read it slowly, and i let you know my reasons why are honest i do not know of anything that lay in beneath your eyes, but i am sometimes vulnerable and i listen that way , the details you let go are driven by emotions, the way your voices reflects passion, and your heart maybe someone else could be tricked but i feel it like a snowfalls , pure and drowning heavy until this reality gets covered completely ... to let you remember twilight is to awaken the dreamers. the dreamer in you i doubt he was fed up enough to spend a whole winter in a cave frozen inside, you gotta keep him warm and moving even when the steps he's going for are not secure, you know the song, ''walking on thin ice''' you can because you have this thing i also have it in me , do you know how brave you appear to me , no matter what certain people are convinced they should let their reasons lead their actions. and i say there is fucking nothing wrong with being wrong, with failing or loosing, but the heart creates life's feelings and if we let the love inside ourselves a little more chances to breathe deeply. then we shouldn't fear for our sharp weakness, will be protected by the trust you give in truth to the way you feel , a fleur de peau les emotions deviennent lames qui gardent son coeur. en d'elegant courants se devoile son mouvement.

feeling more then worth the risk, i am telling you the story in which i dig to let go only what now i believe in. you should know you are allowed any words towards my way, because i gave you my trust and loyalty before you even asked for it. .
strangely last night to talk to shawnda made me realize a bunch of what i'm saying now, i'd rather be more then true, and to follow my instincts behing emotional i refuse to let it grow a denial, cuz i know my time would be lost with regrets..
i'd rather be amaze by my friends who leaves me with unknown then not to give the love i have left fading slowly towards the ones i have found , preciously. i try as i can to move in words i write aware at anytime one of these blades could cut me, but it comes in me very naturally , the fear i swallow in is never the one to create knots inside my chest, it's for my eyes to show you trust , risk is almost easy cuz i have nothing to loose but to loose getting to know you better, forwards the day. in slow motion steady...

note au lecteur, les mots sont nombreux et souvent vite je change, pourrais commencer un roman ... but i tried to let go without thinking much before i do so.. be gentle if you feel like sparing me, i had no vil in writtig this letter... . . .
only i know it's been a while i havnt written what i think by instincts, to someone i should show more patience .. in words.

en ces mots qui semblent si nombreux mais je suis la route de mes jours se dessine demblable au trait du batements d emon coeur , devant tes yeux j'espere tout de meme qu'ils sont a peine reveillees. les couleurs changent inside of me, and their meanings also..
le gris tombe a l'envers mais surtout pas d'ennuie, plutot loin de l'ennuie... pour l'instant j'essaie comme jamais je n'ai eue le courage, de rester tortue.... and don't tell me there is anything wrong with the way turtles walks.
don't tell me . and please don't step on me. it's not easy for me to crawl gently and so slowly. but you know it gives you lotsa time to see.... it's in the details only that i have seen what i am looking for.

i don't need the stars...

not for tonight in fact my family est partie en cavale danser sur des sons trop electro pour mon cerveau ce soir. this comfort you reach even at a friend's house and you're careless of what ever you would miss in a party screaming , but never on top of the music at people you might as well just keep your saliva for yourself so easy to loose control and then a mouth could dry, in a second. i guess i sound selfish, maybe i am , maybe i should give my presence in heart and bones to the party . but it's a party like i have seen millions, and what i lack in my daydreams is people to get close to me, people to laugh stupidly or cry to me randomly, the message is simple , hold me. but i am a writer, alone et c'est dur de s'en faufiller. i can think it out loud, only le souvenir de mes amours decus to remind me how good it felt to release it all in your arms, like before i might have died, in memories even do i forget if it' s true i let go . St-henri, we got here in the morning, last chance for me to hear you sing ;'just call me angel of the morning'' and the day obviously to be endless, you forgot to sleep and to leave the day behind, deep under pillows. o so invincible like there is nothing waiting for you to rest, to give you a rest.

i do actually think it suits me better to play housewife, for the grown-up kids i love in St-henri, too much feelings predilection in the stars, the last time i needed them to let me know i feel home here in my heart, in my eyes.. it's lonely but it's my home . i try to welcome the ones i care to stay and to the rest of the world i say, find me cuz i have no more envy to chase you arround intensely i am a lover not some drooling predators, and i refuse to see you captive, i wish our eyes when closing late would remember in the perfect darkness the way to dance. like the way we pretend to . i will wait , cuz as much as i can predict the feeling there was left to be keeping in a second i ate it all and now i am starving. but starving persona, would rather keep her belly empty then to step on the presence of the one you know and trust. dishonesty is a friendly disease and i am a healthy created pharmaceutically kind of boy i need respect and then you could lead so i follow your steps in the sands or falling road i will see you de suite. i have not learn so carefully how to step away thinking i coul dtake it all or nothing... but nothing is pretty much empty, and you know i woul dmake my ownself grow sick rather then to feel sweet nothing.

so we stayed up all day long, and i had the tools for it. making sure to keep our farms pretty alive for at least daylight i took it my responsibility.. i remember like crystal clear the letter i wrote so fast full of everything that was suppose to be floathing still for a while, no more i have this way to lay it out raw, in details but raw. lettre a un ami que l'on voudrait serrer dans ses bras. i do . wanna hold you , but just to ask makes me scared. some would disagree like the still standing solid human made of beautiful lies, to stay cold you don't ever need someone. but i am lands away from iceland, i would lay my body naked still on mirrored ice to let you see i can melt it, make it a little warmer. but it has not been easy for me to read your eyes when your words are keeping me docile at the perfect lines, invinsible line i am brave enough to show you i would take a step your way through any rain let it fall over me. i wish i could show you all i think i know of consistance, stay solid when everybody ran away seeing the lightning coming our way, but i have nowhere to dream that feels better, i'd rather stay and if you want me close and aware, in the distance i'll stand by you . i feel it now more slowly when the feelings i grow could be un-leashed, but somehow it matters not much, i would love to fight for what i want, but i got beaten inside it's hard to tell the scars are under skins, where my emotions are the ones to fill-in. where the lost o ftrust begin, i trust you in everylight i dare you to look up. proud, but i am giving up by healing what doesn;t even hurt no more, but it makes you scared the twist inside your stomach , the pain sharp in it fills in so quick when you ge pushed in refusal. and sadly it's not even a matter of confidence, i know on what my love could become, but i keep it undone, in case someone would take it away and open my heart gently the paper silver arround is broken already but precious surrounding my identity, i'd rather keep the peices with me even breaked away. the way i feel is visible right now i see myself from the outside so i can help to create again this easy puzzle, easy because i explain it this way.

later . the music i play is nothing like you would imagine, seeing me. , but i am starving melody, and my eyes just just now are sick of melancholy, looking lost, and there is no way i could focus.. that thing they call e... . .. emotionnal . and confessions are indeed easy to get outta me, even the night has forgotten the walls arround to hide the way i look, when i taste ferocely the sweetest of my sin, my inner desires there sentence has not fallen yet. does it means i am still free.

les mots d'un autre...

Harmonie du soir
Voici venir les temps où vibrant sur sa tige
Chaque fleur s'évapore ainsi qu'un encensoir;
Les sons et les parfums tournent dans l'air du soir;
Valse mélancolique et langoureux vertige!
Chaque fleur s'évapore ainsi qu'un encensoir;
Le violon frémit comme un coeur qu'on afflige;
Valse mélancolique et langoureux vertige!
Le ciel est triste et beau comme un grand reposoir.
Le violon frémit comme un coeur qu'on afflige,
Un coeur tendre, qui hait le néant vaste et noir!
Le ciel est triste et beau comme un grand reposoir;
Le soleil s'est noyé dans son sang qui se fige.
Un coeur tendre, qui hait le néant vaste et noir,
Du passé lumineux recueille tout vestige!
Le soleil s'est noyé dans son sang qui se fige...
Ton souvenir en moi luit comme un ostensoir!
— Charles Baudelaire

extract

Charles Baudelaire: "Romanticism is precisely situated neither in choice of subject nor exact truth, but in a way of feeling."

en cette nuit je debute ce qui va s’averer un automne of searching in between all the words i have left behind me. and o trust me it’ll keep on going t’ll christmas rings me back to reality. i don’t plan on a bumpy road, i see it smooth and chaotic, the way i need it for now. writing and somedays i have to remind myself that i need money therefore i should work, but this summer has been the first ever to let me free at the end with a certain light disability to get back into my old life in the city. i rode my bike downtown today and my nervous system feels pretty fragile. like my heart, like my eyes, only they still see me as a strong standing warrior. but you know for now i am forcing to winter sleep all of me that use to run and fight and be aggressive in order to get wherever my dreams were standing. but i am a writer for now, a lover incarceree au prises avec les muses de son passe. ma sentence va tomber , i will be the first one to see it falling in front of my eyes, i am not a criminal for judges to lay their sentences, only my prison is the reality i am sentenced to see everyday, and how truly you tell me a serial lover should be able to breathe slowly. it’s the lack of intensity , the release in daylight of what my dreams becomes with twilight. it’s all you can’t see in my eyes because i cried inside and outside the coldness is heavy on me so they freezes. emotions they freezes when i look in the streets and i smiled at you hoping for a feeling. but i welcome you to a land where the crazy lovers are doomed to act in a play with absence of duality .i predict a story of tragedy.

une histoire si belle, tragique.


i am feeling good inside the tree house i am building with an old friend with whom i am always amaze we live in true black comfort together now. her name; Althea.
i’m finally celebrating the tool i was awaiting for ever, the keyboard i can hit all night long, fast and focus. but tonight there is no rush, i let it come to me. soon i am gonna start to dig my past and keep what i always kept anyway... the loves i keep alive.
people and i have some kind of a different way to perceive the dramatics of their endings, for me there will be no ending, only one way to go, and this is where no one knows. i shall let go one day of my life, but i’ll never let go of my loves. it’s a way to be true to my heart, loyal but mostly it’s my way to make it endless. i thought and felt so much in me provoquer by the memory lanes that in the end i am way too fucking amaze by how it created me, affected and written on my body, to forget is to defeat so easy, come on i am willing to put in my own life as the price to pay , for love can be eternity.
it’s in the way i try to create harmony with pain, pleasure,, desires and lost, that i feel the love i hold in growing still insanely even with the worst bullet there could have been pulled at me, the feeling they call ‘empty’ .

science is the kind of reality to tell you empty is o so full of everything, my kind of empty is what will drive me beyond crazy, it’s me loosing control of my body, of my mind and my heart. when i leave my future unknown is nothing compare to when i look in my mind and see the color is white, nothing pure but empty of feelings, empty of words or motions. empty you have left it right there for me to see.

for now these are all the words i'll let go free. i told you i have sentenced myself . i let go of your prison. but i will draw you for later the wires are sharp and tight arround my heart in circles to stay.

lady in red

........ passion needs patience.....
the feelings i have left for you i refuse to let go
your silences inside me are sounds of melancholy
si mon regard condamnee a ne plus jamais se confondre en toi
il existe en mes reves un ocean noir, profond..
l'ou mon coeur s'eteindra, cet amourj'emporte avec moi.
a jamais. ''

the title in big letter... serenade tragique

later, aftre what could have been an hour i just can't remember. why would i... i am starting to love the sounds my dear erin makes, sewing machine in broken ride of midnight production. sh elet me stay, somekind of silent body with a mind so add i search the screen for all i can take really on love's history, the drama it's all shit in the end, i can't even find a true revelation, what do i care about wikipedia's definition of passion, words tell you only so much, the best and deepest is when comes the feeling, stronger then drugs, le syndrome de l'amour cingle est d'autant plus stable. stays and stays, even when you go down it follows you deep..

i have stopped my words for a moment, and later i sit back, and o music, all i could think of was this simple song i wanna hear, and i realize that the hours i just spend reading loving theory and whatever other bullshit story is nothing compare to how i feel when i listen to this song, the way words are moved together . i am lost but then remember it happens in dreams you can't keep or truth when the day turns into twilight and you are king in the arms of the girl you look at begging her to lay on you the spell you craved for... hungry for lust. images in movements intertwined.. i do not like that word but for now it's all i got.. i am still french.
fuck i love music, but if you intend to keep on reading my toughts, you have to hear tonight's melody of my heart.
ladies and gentlemens my time is over. no more playing on the computer. children go to bed. but i can't i am too scared. i'd rather hang in there.
here goes my song....
''I've never seen you looking so lovely as you did tonight
I've never seen you shine so bright
I've never seen so many men ask you if you wanted to dance
They're looking for a little romance, given half a chance
I have never seen that dress you're wearing
Or the highlights in your head that catch your eyes I have been blind
The lady in red is dancing with me cheek to cheek
There's nobody here, it's just you and me, It's where I wanna be
But I hardly know this beauty by my side
I'll never for get, the way you look tonight

I've never seen you looking so gorgeous as you did tonight
I've never seen you shine so bright you were amazing
I've never seen so many people want to be there by your side
And when you turned to me and smiled, It took my breath away
I have never had such a feeling
Such a feeling of complete and utter love, as I do tonight

The way you look tonight
I never will forget, the way you look tonight
The lady in red
The lady in red
The lady in red
My lady in red (I love you.) '''

i tought the next girl i go on a date with i should play her that song, and if she can handle that, she can have me.
a sigh mais quel tristesse s'arrette ici ce qui aurait pu s'averer une avalanches de mots.. but my time has been counted, and in within a couple seconds i'll be history... it's four thirty and the sand man is fucking pissed at me.... seriously .

the loveliest pain in my heart i let you be.

i am not always that serious , but i am trying to set up my life so i can lock myself in and rewrite, write more.. my brain is heavy .. internet home is there but no computer . and soon it will be cold as hell in our castle house of tree in the mile end.. gain money, spend money. bought a cd, first time in ages. pj's new style, piano and darkness at it's finest. i miss a certain street in minneapolis, and a certain dream house in east vancouver, a friend here and there. i crave the return of my love only in dreams i envy the story because truly it is not any real around me. when i am. awake. i was talking to a friend tonight about sadness and the days endless you feel absent of all you did before, the possibility you know from the past. and this sadness affect me less and less, i feel it but i'd rather have my heart feel then my mind sometimes. break it or knock the sweet nails through it's broken shape i don't care i remember like if it was there forever how much my love i need to feel it under my tongue, bitter sweet senses but lately my mouth is dry, way too dry. i do work a little but i am so calm about the pictures i see, the people who needs to deal with me , i make little effort, give them what they expected but i only paint my nails religiously, valentine red is the only color for me. i dress up for no one lately. i wrote about jail and i say i do not mind to sentenced to a silver cell and i could die only if they forget to throw me paper, ink and feather so i build a nest in my eyes after staring the walls empty they turned in mirror to reflect my obsessions and desires. the rest can fuck off. i have not much to say tonight, and i would sound pretty insane if i would mention the girl i will adore and therefore i intend to die for.. not for as in for her, because she cares nor, but in the name of this feeling who as grown into my spine and my blood runs down to the color turned into water , black.. you heard i said the ocean black. no more words, for no one but me. the dream of knowing you again once more is not acting easy on me, it's hunting and last week walking the streets of my little city i saw you walking, and my inside is still shaking. and i tried but doubt the feelings will ever stop , they hurt and this is a malady of love i refuse to heal. fuck it literally i started last summer to write about death. and my life needs to reflect what i love, and i also love tragedy, to read and look at it in sinematic eyes is never gonna be enough. have you ever wrote your own death, it makes it easy and so far seduce me. not the way you use too.

i came back to the computer to change from jail words my title to an almost inapropriate one. but the one i set in is perfect to reflect the color inside me ..
i do not sleep enough. it's never truly healthy to dream in the past or the future you'll never see it real. but no one is never always healthy. my mom was sick, and i am alive and sick. the body is a good masquerade sometimes to hide your heart .
i acted my days lately half way.. i mightdo better , only it's hard to know with winter coming. soon. .