limbs or dirt.So she is a girl, 17 maybe, with a tiny snap-in-two frame and earrings like wild fire that should be weighing down either side of her head. She is in mourning three years later. Three years later after he hung himself by the wires of his walkman, after the strings split and the music filled the air, with no where to go but the space between her skin. But this is not about her and this boy, manchildinfantfather, but about her and the one who wouldn't take her back. We know that the mother can smell the manufactured smog of the human hand, we know that he should be able to smelllimbs or dirt.
Ashlandshiveringboy found it hardest to say to lonelygirl there really was a town called Ashland but I lost it in a lightningflashAshland
forgiveness happens but first both sides gotta, if a tree grows in your brain it only has your blood
promise not to run away, raindrop, if a bee's born in your heart it only lost some sting
(we can crush the trees so small they'll snow)
To respect the dead"So why just sit here and drink yourself dead?"To respect the dead
Because this is the flashback, this is my life passing before my eyes. This is heaven, son, this is hell. I died years ago, drink's not gonna change that. I died years ago, And now I'm nothing but a ghost; Transparent, invisible. Just a thin, dashed outline of the body in the photographs. When I walk down the street, there's nothin' to see but the gold puddle of bourboun in my pale, shrunken insides. And they respect me.
But it's only right to respect the dead.
--
" 'Forty-two', said Deep Thought, with infinite majesty and calm. " --DNA
--
" 'Forty-two', said Deep Thought, with infinite majesty and calm. " --DNA
--
sticks and stones break the only bones she has ever known
my eyes keep going out of focus
but i kind of like looking at the world this way.
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