hands in line, arms close to my side. i'm fighting tides of an ocean's undertow. i figure that i might not make it. i'm waking empty and seldom speaking, and my words they retreat, building histories into something unknown, stories untold. arms unfold. my hands are high and i'm holding out, holding up because i figure that i just might make it. i'm waking empty but seldom sleeping and the words repeat, breathing histories into stories untold and i, unfold.

the night he brushed his hands upon my flushed cheek, smelled of childhood remnants of a dusty weeping willow, clouds soothe, shredded by the calico were oh so vast and quick as i was on my own now. this time like every other time i believe that i never find another sweet little boy with sequined sea foam eyes. ocean lapping voice smile coy as the brightest quiet span of sky and i'm all alone again tonight not again, not again, not again. still i'm unable to inhale all the riches as i'm awkward as a wound on my bones. still i've got cobblestone joints and plate glass points as i'm all by myself tonight. well if you should nervously break down when its time for the shakedown, would you take it? it's when you cry just a little but you laugh in the middle that you've made it. and don't it feel alright? and don't it feel so nice? lovely.


Takku, Yuji, Mio
Hong Kong reminded me of Jason's Bright Eyes. how every word meant so much. if i'm back to reality, i have yet to redo my nails since they are a wreck. Ima Ai Ni Yukimasu with Froysthe was way nicer than watching alone. tickets will be purchased soon. (:


warm hugs, live high.