i can go alone

when i write for people. the ones i choose to write then it's as always quite easy to focus.. i also forget easy to focus on what most people do... i still need time to eat, clean. smoke and drink.. tonight the people i like like to party. i like milk. i want cookies and cold freezing milk. and a bed that's not mine, or if it's mine i'll set it on top of the oldest church i can find. and i will not feel bad for anything i am, or anything there is . everybody have there worries, it's a lifetime t. i worry to feel good, it's hard. a lot of people around me crave the feeling called lonely, i want nothing more, but someone to be aware, what the fuck would i do with a teddy bear. seriously . i need sleep but in less then an hour i'll be awake for the time that it takes to write you a letter. i noticed there hasn't been any words for this page in almost 2 days. no one cares for now, there is lazyness, and i will never give up even when my eyes are falling, if what i get is a feeling. i might stay .

mes sens sont les memes seulement leurs fonctions different, but in the end nothing works for me if my heart is not breathing.

if i want to be alone i'll get a license and drive... on a highway, to the sea and i always come back...
seulement ce n'est pas tout de moi qui revient.