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.