days left

3 more workin' days before i get to run away .. and gracieusete de migghan i get to run away with a the cure album, all i need, cigarettes, a 26 oncer of scotch and to be sitting in whatever van that'll take me away ... i have been dreamin about it, every day ... i have one only worry , some of my friends there havenot been receptive to my request for a place to sleep, i hate to beg , i am also really succeptible and take shit personnaly , i ant help it , i have been like this for a while , some of you are rough to change, like your name stuck, yur family, a lot of bad habits, they are part of yourself.... i know peoplewith crazier caprice then that , but i love them. i just wish the people i want to see would also want to os me... i know i would host pretty much everybody i know... new music into my life... a craving for drugs, but i am being hardcore resistance since the only thing i can get deliver to my door is way to expensive and addictive, i have a bit of scotch left so i'll sip carefully try to think of something else.. this moby song called porcelain does to me the ame effect it must do on everybody who have seen th ebeach , th emovie, it feels like the ocean in south somewhere hot, burning hot.. with turquoise water ...
it's funny my addiction to chating on the net , i am writing random to people and everynight coming back t my home expecting mesage from a couple of people i truly wanna hear about , but there is only one trustable stranger that writes long messages to me... i will meet this person soon enough to feel where this interest will go , it's strange but they say you should expect romances to be unexpected, from the people you would have never tought. so maybe i shou dstop waiting for what's obviously not coming my way th eway i wanted it to ..... and let time be, leave the days aloe they will go on , their path in your life, breathe in breathe out when you need it most . go away from this fucking screen , you;re sitting in th ewrong way , careless of the comfort of your back... careless of the mess arround you. all you care is words to everywhere, words no one knows really exist for now, a moie to make, to write your guts, drink and smoke.. go to bed, go lay down with a book , this amazing polish lady gave you th ecreme de la creme to read et tu n'est meme pas foutue de tourner les pages, instead ou are waiting for a call from destiny that is especially not ready to come your way , or even worst it's hiding in between the books themselves, you are too sure of yourself your life you believe it stand hiding in the same pages you are turning over and over, but there lays only lies and fake lullabies., the ones you dream awake in your bed all night t'll dawn..... lies for all my lullabies, start living for fuck's sake .. there you go i have reach it , the magick point where you start to talk to your own self, i know few, but really a tiny little few people that can crush me down with truth , about th evisions i am addicted to , and the most reliable is me.... most of my friends are way too carefull , and they believe most i'll say, i am good because of that or sad or stone or rehab or clean, ... believe in my voice, i am a preacher that can be so honest , even when i choose to lie...

hard to believ ( smile ) but trust .. blind fuck ....who knows i am the one to repeat there is no need of reality .. more brilliant then me said it already .. .Fellini ..