the error

cruising while the shore splits up in half, going around the face starts to feel darker.
It grows heavier and sighs under the pressured tree that holds the error.
Climbs the branches, and sleeps in the night, upstairs, watching the stars lighten up,
then collapse from the contrast of the sun.
Childish and also full of sarcasm, climbs down to get food.
the tree always steps ahead, and covers it's bruises,
the savia is held like a treasure under the very best of the possible security.
the error remains unknown, dwelling without being noticed by the tree,
or anyone else.
no one else.


shit, i fucking die and everything will be the same, i wish it would.
im a bitch whose name was recorded in every streetcorner in which i could land.
in heaven i would be a baby sitter.
i guess having my femenine side developed finnally paid up.
having no more than two coctails i happily dance in the twilight of the dance floor, everyone staring, moved by the innocent touch of madness.
hope will get me nowhere fast.
daydreaming is the single most stupid thing i do, the only thing i really do.
grasping the breath in the streets by your house, trying effortlessly to move on, without the chill of loss atached to bones.
freaky ways to enter the one world which i dont understand, the world (thanks billy) i cant live without.
brake, fist punching the grass, island stranded, desperate and fond of the sandless beach in having thought of swimming and die trying to get
anywhere./ dying being the key word.
New gloomy blue glass in hand, soflty spoken by the whispering thought of madness.
by receiving this gift you are being stung in front of the eyes of the jury that can condemn you to the great fall, living helpless, buried alive and talking
shit.