oh, santi.

let the night begin.

candies, anyone?

etc details

i do not steal face.

+++

so what do you get to think since coffee whiles? eat a doughnut. nyahahaha. is it tuesday? i think it is still sunday. i can still taste the cold iced tea like just now. so, when will you be able to go with i outside? i feel like being a poet suddenly, you know. like guyabano juice also. in between feelings like these get i a nice high.

to elen:

the constellations die by inches
and when you hit the tides
i can see one
you get to be so wide a distance about the land
by day i watch the sea get to the beach
soon we will weep
like chickens pecking on the feeds
when you left i wept
although not so bad
i took a can of soda
gulping down its contents i watched you go
into the sea as i think you felt like since you went
you in a distance
and the sea you finally touched

"Animal Nitrate"

Like his dad you know that he's had
Animal nitrate in mind
Oh in your council home he jumped on your bones
now you're taking it time after time

oh it turns you on, on, on, now he has gone
oh what turns you on, on, on, now your animal's gone?

Well he said he'd show you his bed
and the delights of his chemical smile
so in your broken home he broke all of your bones
now you're taking it time after time

oh it turns you on, on, on, now he has gone
oh what turns you on, on, on, now yor animal's gone?

what does it take to turn you on, on
now he has gone?
now you're over 21?
now your animal's gone?
animal, he was animal, an animal

by Suede.

independence of opinion

it's the life you can't tell the world. it's the candy you feel like chewing on hidden instances. it's the top you take off when you get so hot with the guys. it's the shoes you kick. it's the lipstick stain on the tee. it's the lunch you say goodbye to. it's the pal you hook up with on weekends. it's the note you send to gals who weep when you pass by. it's the song you sing on sundays. it's the life you can't tell the world.

be it.

+++

i think opinion is not talent. it's a capability which defines the lines between you and one not you. it's not God-given as it is at one's own expense and it can gain one a punch on the face when it's withheld or taken into thought not so lightly. okay, this is God so i get to set up the guidelines about the how-tos. what. i feel like it. you get into this blog and i get it with you when you get to be the things i would like you to be. an online punch won't be so bad. it is to add to the pogi points one gets. sad?

you can count constellations and weep

Like you said, you'd never get used to it
But it's lost that old surprise
Time comes and goes so quiet now
Leaves emptiness behind our eyes
Oh, darling, if I could spare us
From an hour of the pain
Like you said, you'd never get used to it
But love's worn out again

Winter's here, bring the blankets out
To cover up the cold
I'm dreamin' of the good night's sleep
Like I used to know in days of old
You told me you felt all alone
But you did not tell me when
Like you said, you'd never get used to it
But love's worn out again

Love's worn out again, darling
It's moved around the bend, darling
There's no telling when
We'll feel it again

Oh, maybe I can't see what's plainly in my view
Oh, I wish I was a better man, maybe it's just you
But there's something goin' on here
Like a wound that will not mend
Like you said, you'd never get used to it
But love's worn out again

Love's worn out again, darling
It's moved around the bend, darling
There's no telling when
We'll feel it again

Love's worn out again, darling
It's moved around the bend, darling
There's no telling when
We'll feel it again

Love's worn out again, darling
It's moved around the bend, darling
There's no telling when
We'll feel it again ...

 by America.

such is a nice thing. this business of going in and out of the house about hidden instances. like cotton candy. you know you had it when you begin losing it and the sweet taste is not so sweet at all---a wisp of a thing. once, i owned china yet it was on a long lost legacy i swallowed by a fowl. gold, bloody, black. life's good.

today and about days ago i played whiles about highstreet 5. it's cute and nice. like candy. i like the scenes and the dancing. highstreet5.com.ph fun, nice, cool. it's like being in a life long ago.

life is cute about ice pops

today i get to think life is so okay being a paid ice pop fan. it's a thing i used to do in the past, a thing i thought about as occupation when the skies get to be so happy in good hues, a job i'd like to be about.


anyway. tonight i bought a soda which in the label says i would get a high when gulping it down. all the way down. beings like nanay do not say okay yet it does get i a high. when i feel so high i sleep well, wake up nice, and be the day's gentle kid. jekyll and hyde swings about the feelings i own today is, well, cool to the sight.

obvious. yeah. like usual paid ice pop fans who quit, life is not so well without being one. it is addiction about feelings, cuteness hidden so the skies is contained in one's sight, and bouncing wall to the dead about to go to hell on a scholarship.

hey, wait. i think selling doughnuts is a good idea. coffee?

do you know the way to the place they sell plastic balloons and yellow three day old chicks? you can get these with a cute play of counting signs with a gal who sells candies. yeah, long ago. oh, we don't die soon. yet this planet often has a wake daily in good and bad places. being dead is like finally getting to the final finish line and you know you can't win when you sinned so about the book going up so you go down and you find the day's bida with you. you know when one is an antagonist it's just flat. it's so global to be one's life special guy o gal and get away with it all. it's not so difficult to accept you can not be flat. all would like not to play the antagonist. all would like to be on the top of the list. then they put you in hell. up with the angels is not exactly a nice deed when you think they should be with you when they put you to hell. to all those who would not like to be flat ones: lead us not into hell. which is the title about the one going to hell? no one knows. it's nice to be unknown when one is going to hell. it's not nice being said.

walk with i tonight. it's cold. i need to kiss. anyone? just anyone.

watch out. ice pops!

i'd like to get the job again soon. it's nice to be a paid ice pop fan days like these.

life is okay today. it's not so sick like the hue yellow. no stuff to swallow. an ice pop is still is cool.

today is about cuteness and its effects to society. i hate yellow so. i get to don it today.

you never know love until you begin to hate

things like this make i ill. it takes awhile to know when a thing is okay. it's like getting to be a paid ice pop fan. soon, it was quits. yet i know i can always be a paid ice pop fan when i feel like it. it's easy to fill out a sheet about i and then get to the questions. it's like being in sleepland. you hasten to be out and to look which ones get to be the sleazy scenes. it's okay. i and you know that. huh.

i hate a splashy while when it's about the fifth day. you know hatred is cute. okay, so doodling will get i out fine and things will be so well. laughing about good clean jokes and life and chewing candies---these get i a high. go ahead. i'll get lace, glasses filled with peach juice, and good books. then i'll end this date with a good kiss. you know i and you? cute, cute, cute.