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goodbye blogspot!

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fire at-will

Killer in the crowd while wearing green dress and pink shoes and I feel some part of the usual burst my body and I implore you to give me something sharp because I feel like heavy stuff no drugs to get me a bit 'down because I feel very calm no electricity and sedatives on the brain and listen to stuff that remind me of Ellen Allien brief report in electronic Language German still barely understand. Last night abandoned me something to make me feel more free and I did not tell a soul but now the world might know if only he cared and I feel okay because caffeine distributed to all of my half ton despite not having actually eaten and I understand that maybe I'm in no produrmi acetylcholine and dopamine. Yeah, Yeah, Yeahs if you like to paint with me enchanted worlds that frogs will jump on becoming progressions and psychedelic guitar noise rapiscimi keypad and I feel now that you can use me any way you like. Traducimi language devilishly seventy-seven times seven and I cheer the Pretty Things at the edge of nervous collapse and, kneeling at the feet of an amplifier to the battery and look big eyes and smile. And watch the smiles on guitar and sing to you. Incorporated electronic sounds than mere punk style.

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mother.

Suddenly, I feel compelled to do something for you to bear my screams every night and look at books and newspapers disconsolate that I leave around the house without worrying too much.
strawberries, flowers and marshmallows, put on something cheerful, you're so good to me when I decide to celebrate, when you feel most close. There are. And now imagine my house, the walls pink and yellow sofas, a lady about 40 and hazel eyes, seems to fuck my sister. Imagine rock'n'roll
efforts everywhere now that I prepare omelet and Janis Joplin me and broke the balls schiarisciti fucking voice or CD changer, and this time even I change it now ... still rock the casbah trip.

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vanilla cigar smoked in the bathroom at seven in the morning and I still painful and convoluted explosions pc too slow and connection bitch I'd love to fling around the world down from the balcony.

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What I would now know that my cat looks like I can throw up without any retainer outside the window of horrified neighbors who close the curtain but I'm not just nervous in a fiat miles without making any sound and with devastating noise you know that I listen to melancholy notes yann tiersen & shannon wright. No clarity while disconnections help me not to sbiellare ten times over and fuck how many people should now is walk around next to stupid to do but let me lose but I'm still not in and Scazzi I want a lot of things you can not have makes me dizzy and guitar as always come to my rescue and I notice on my mood just happening spontaneously played guitar riffs joy division this time too uncomfortable in my body and cry out, but I can not risk that angina frightening and powerful as ever drink liquor simple beer glasses in normal and lounge does not mean a fuck

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STAEDTLER STAEDTLER # 2

Viola me in the slot specially designed to lock me up the wall in parallel worlds and psychedelic in my hair weird and funny color of indefinite or not divided equally abstractly different because missing something in my head and I realize now I'm only just now learned something about myself that much even then given me to know especially in times sleepless and sterile and tremble of nervousness and anxiety and bangs his head against the wall and thick hair is suddenly in a different world than where you are and you know that last night I hugged frightened frog spat the palm of my property I wanted to kiss her and amused as he continued with cra cra cra and pleading freedom but still I did not want I just wanted to extend long limbs and eyes look like blacks and roll balls tennis rackets cheers cheers.

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Relax well in my uncontrolled aggression. Phone that I left in the vehicle the male parent, casually and I'm happy. Bitches and furious reactions to what I do while getting their makeup integerrima Serena slow and sensual close to my legs and ask me advice that I can not give up some stylish colors. You will not give a fuck, I told a blogger who studies the dynamics. You will not give a fuck about me and Serena and Q and not U. walls of rubber block synapses and I feel confirmed in my convictions. Achievements of social etiquette post-lesbian invade the streets of fake loving hugs. I've seen him do in many clit. Relieves eye strain for me to close my eyes and I do not know how to help. Philip Roth still talk of strange given seventy talented life in blue pills. Weary souls in cowardly evasion. Also want to throw my long elusive moments in endless spring. A few minutes of escape for me. And look at a plate of pasta with clams. I have a chip in his head that travels automatically, while the study radiologist clams poached in inviting tangled spaghetti vent on aggression and tasty dish. Shit, I'm not going. novel combinations. Phone calls with a metallic and sad too close to trains and suffocating stranglers. Dark spots inside of me I can not clear my voice and I do not get excited by a bit more ', are laminated in aggression. Wash me with saliva to the taste of licorice. Tiriamoci everything. The case created artificially. Pierre Boulez spoke of random music that I had clothes with me to the flea market at low cost.

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the sun is there to cover it even if there are clouds. cheers SERIDO '

Luggage bright openings expected anything like the lucky and the rain falls as heavy applause size and tumult of thunder makes curtains and quiet town, emotionally stirring and sentimental that makes me anxious. trees sad smile. Grey school environment make me mad bristling of past experiences spent screaming and personality suddenly exploded because necessity is the mother of invention. Two seconds. Again. Two more seconds and then are in the world once again. Again. Two seconds. Again. Again. Existential bankruptcy strategies and feel free to suffer and be just as happy as me to stay healthy. I say calm. I think Serena. Not necessarily happy. Phones communicate with me you know there's mystery debut hello you. I do not give a shit. I wrote in the lake. Writing of poems known by writing languages \u200b\u200binfants of physical inflatable writing about suicide premeditated. Write me attitude that I left long and scarlet vents specially charged on the upper limbs because I'm learning to love me too. For two seconds. Appointments and walk. In the lake I'd like to meet again. I want to be your dog in the rehearsal room is covered with fragrant wood and clear your modesty as PoP. Oddities turn
home look beautiful butterfly that other people do not see. Applause out of me. Light inside me too if you do not know who is' I am body. Screams from scratch nights
sedated while hot camomile deodorant spray adidas rooms in pink and I have a new quilt to make me happy. I write on the walls that I could not remember if only I did not. Dream inflatable everywhere. A city inflatable, inflatable a sister, a boyfriend who would not be able to love inflatable full of flowers in stroke because of my soul no longer take myself in hand and my guitar is complaining. That makes me cruel immortality riot. Only for two seconds. Again. Lick my face if I find ice stracciatella. Too much sugar and honey made me diabetic. I want to heal. Covered in chocolate hot pink. Cigarette that consumes me between the fingers wake up. Slides and loud applause. I found pleasure in infusions praised. With jams and honey. Jam while watching the brackets Swiss melancholy sea port and a ride in that of my country. Air for me. Swiss parentheses write about me in French and I'm happy. Swiss parentheses laugh with me. On the rocks. As observed by tsunami waves and rough sea. There are situations taste of tribulation. Air cooler and friends run towards me understand that I care seriously. You are here to support my aggression. Joy Division guitarist who can not hear me. Love.

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my happiness is equivalent to that of Dr. Carlo Mariano

have pity on me.
punched in the stomach. Not yet completed the process of resurrection completely. Viva Vacation in the head and rides will see me happy forever. till death do us part. Nights and tears and cried the old town too many times. But never enough. Love that envelops my hands in blue plastic. Colored Pencil drawing unusual thoughts on skin cut studs sharp enough to hurt me. I would like to review these CDs. But I do not have time to breathe.
I LOVE ME.

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love on bus

Simulated batteries colorful and violent and black Converse attached to the window. Simulated battery colorful and violent fuck, in radio pass the Hives. Simulated. Batteries colorful and violent. E. someone. He says. Openly. Sara. I think. Tu. Both. Drugged. Simulated battery colorful and violent and flashings attached to the window. Roads and trees seen with blood on the brain. Visas. Vice versa. To see the better side. Vice versa. To pick the colors of the sky. To capture ultraviolet radiation. O ultra-violent, as claimed by children over 4. grapes and candy plug in language. flashings attached to the window of places where people greet you use barter items. My being upside down. Attached to the chair and the window. Hair lying on the ground. Plasma invades the brain, bursting with happiness. Why? Eh, eh, eh! Burst of happiness. And bang. Of? ... Happiness. Simulates fuchsia ring on her finger. Simulate batteries. Simulate until I see murderous stains on the glass. Simula. Until I feel faint. I simulate contrast batteries. Become purple and simulates drummer who are not. I turned into the road leg, your cars are, viaggiatemi him. I would cry.

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if Puetia?

Scazzi in the car of my own sadness predicting unprecedented in an April night when the moon looks from curious almost kidding. And bursts into tears and I'm tired and I am releasing the three. Someone wants to hug me and do not understand why they do not. Nebula in the head. Bursts into tears liberating and I do not need pity. No. I do not need pity if your hands are covering my face and pale with fear. Oh yeah. Oooh yeah. And I begin to fear the departure of my brothers. You take me Tuma said. Do you remember? We the same sweater. And I lie on the grass feeling Erlend Oye. I only listen to me now that I'm impossible and unattainable. Covered with good words that dance above. Super Ring, scream that you'd die laughing. Nocturnal activities to prevent my brain to rest quietly without interruption of tears and music that takes possession of me and my dream work. Because tonight I walked into pink and green striped pants in the shop Soul Food and robbed of everything. And then I dropped my teeth. And pink and green striped pants and green like the new cover it's fantastic to Blow Up, interview with Populous and electronic number, fuck BeautyCase Blow Up is ahead by at least two months. Love for the sixties and people who found sweaters striped yellow and fuchsia. Peloserrima magnificent history is around four-legged canines emitting sounds to be sampled model Sex in Dallas, which I never found pussies. Oh yeah, tomorrow, alone again. Oh yeah, I have the number of Child From Hell Vox. Oh, yeah, I find myself on the old fanzine Arrington's cell phone number of Old Time Relijun and are the happiest girl on earth. I love sorrows in the moonlight, very romantic and scream from the highest skyscraper in the world Do you want to get it for credit? Forget itDon't itCall bet in the medicIt patheticYou've's gotta let it go
cigarette between my lips if I had skeys would live for that. Hold your wrists while you eat my flesh. Virgin martyr bedeviled allow to what I have to peer into the green and soft huge breasts depicted in photographs to be used for my first demox. Super Ring punk'77. WoW! I look forward to smash fire red raspberries in the world. Cholesterol resulting from too much love in me. Should I care about. I still love million dogs. Of any race. I still love boobs, any size.
Dirtbombs and me together. Massacre of hearts by Mr.Bean. cousin to the actor with the same toy keyboard that tells me inharmonies pictures with little girls around them rebels. Made in the Church. Depeche Mode traveling between the myelin sheaths of Mr. Bean and black bags. He tells me shit that I can not decipher. Shit, you say? That speaks to me and I continue to write capendoci nothing really. Psychedelia in me. And I hear sounds This Modern Love. I'm thinking sounds unlikely to be mixed with the beats of my punk'n'roll. Oh, yeah. Felice is a big word. I would dress
strawberry candy. Chicken wings spread on my neck. Depend from licorice liqueur that I have on the desk.
Lovelovelovelovelove.

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Have Love, Will Travel

lightning exist because clouds collide. Not the clouds collide on purpose to generate lightning.
And this seems clear enough. Unable to communicate
find happiness in anticipation of days Valentinian.
Joy found beside you on the balcony of your house tonight. Giganterrima moon smiles at us. Cigarette you hold to your lips, that I would be. I'm turning in my bed tonight, while we were kissing under the stars. Today they are the cream cornet, my bloody valentine note that I run in the head and still want to drink endless kisses.
Mother shouting my name, I'm here. And I sat down next to you listening to the beat of the chants in myocardial tramutatosi 1969, Herman's Hermits, you feel it? Something is happening. 3 minutes and 09 by 1969. Beat box the skull. Beat box. Beat box the skull and coffee enjoyed up and down, stomach in turmoil, love-LOVE-stomach in turmoil. Do you love me? No, because I do not remember ... mental-saws kept me dream of living happily love stories already difficult enough. It was my fault.
Welfare found in your embrace. When can I hold you again?
Love. Sole walking
reviewed with you. Sun, which will see again. Walking. With you.

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lightning exist because clouds collide. Not the clouds collide on purpose to generate lightning.
And this seems clear enough. Unable to communicate
find happiness in anticipation of days Valentinian.
Joy found beside you on the balcony of your house tonight. Giganterrima moon smiles at us. Cigarette between his lips tighten, that I would be. I'm turning in my bed tonight while we were kissing under the stars. Today they are the cream cornet, my bloody valentine note that I run in the head and still want to drink endless kisses.
Mother shouting my name, I'm here. And I sat down next to you listening to the beat of the chants in myocardial tramutatosi 1969, Herman's Hermits, you feel it? Something is happening. 3 minutes and 09 by 1969. Beat box the skull. Beat box. Beat box the skull and coffee enjoyed up and down, stomach in turmoil, love-LOVE-stomach in turmoil. Do you love me? No, because I do not remember ... mental-saws kept me dream of living happily enough romance difficult. It was my fault.
Welfare found in your hugs. When can I hold you again?
Love. Sole walking
reviewed with you. Sun, which will see again. Walking. With you.

Sonics (Have Love, Will Travel)

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I LOST CONTROL AND ROCK'N'ROLL # 2

Letter for Supervixen girl and there is really something that makes me feel anxious. Come on let's go and me and Louise we simulate stories of love and kisses, glances and trains by opening up the door to my favorite room, the one with the chandelier hanging from scacciaspiriti and jingling bells dangling colorful and mystical scare me during the crisis. What seemed like a long past, but no. Want to hot baths and scented salts for me. Hot items to warm the atmosphere. Soap bubbles and bubble bath from Bologna who I love so much, dirty girl. Why do you want to do everything that I do? Because I respect you.
Prevents Smiths to play again for me. I have to protect themselves. Letter for Supevixen girl in the mouth and biscuits Athens Doria. Noise this month I arrived after 20 days. Melodic taste and I would love if I were male. Moldy Peaches Lazy Confession and greet me happy.
Lazy Confession. Come on let's go. Lazy Confession. Wonder at the colored notes that I walk around my house. Volume ball. Hard fall on the ground below me and comics. Happy to be affected by loved ones, too bad I can not speak. Will you call me again? I have some more dubts.
glitter attached to the legs. Various teas. Peaches in my thoughts.
Two seconds of incomprehension. I do not believe. And I am still a bit 'to focus on facts not yet happened. And I am still a bit 'with the eyes out the window. Look, Scatter languid everywhere. Scattered books at home, on desks and dark pink curtains. Tone starts still not giving me something of his own. Travel books and confused friends and strange thoughts that m'appartengono. Discs that can not m'appartengono. Evening in the company of Gino's Pizza, Coca-Cola and music that appeals to Tuma. This is one of my favorite songs. Yes, I imagine, is really yours. Brain shattered thoughts in Joy Division, that since I saw the other video I do not imagine that with the guitarist. Still glitter and legs. Implosions dominate the lives of the country. Someone yells something vaguely political in the square. Punk rock to women in this too. Maybe. And thank goodness that i lost.
I no longer want to chase unrealistic dreams. Headache and psychosis and neurosis chase in my mind. And citomegalovirosi. And sleep around the clock, while I hear my Belle & Sebastian.
Kisses.

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I bet you that ...

Another time clock. Food that does not want to join me and purple and black jersey. Clear that the guy who kept calling me last night m'abbia actually severed male attributes that I unfortunately never owned. I lost control on a sunny spring like this, Mirko goes around in the car, microphone to his lips, I have not yet figured out what it means to Seila. White bicycle and someone calls me Monella. Bicycle white sock and a different, one blue and one striped purple. I call my brain Arturo. I search the streets near the Church of Grace. I search the streets of the country. I search for the historical center, in the trees, and flowers in the Screen cinema. No trace. And I take in hand, finally, and I understand that I just laugh at me once more before being happy. Sfigaterrimo blog!

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I Bet That You are a sweet peach, to rock your body baby!

I open my eyes and I find myself in the kitchen with flowers and green pajamas. Mules phosphorescent me. I put in the oven pasta and mozzarella secret ingredient so much love. It calls that aspect. Arrive? Oh, yes ... and I'm never alone. Really ever. And so I put purple striped socks and simulates night screaming and rock'n'roll while working plates. Wide-eyed at me. Oh, too fast for love of singing while I look for magazines loving mother reciting test in anticipation of future lives together. Mah Goose bumps imagining day of love. LOVE NO STOP. LOVE IN PLASTER.

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I LOST CONTROL AND rock'n'roll, AGAIN

Belief born by chance, from a speech contaminated with pure two-timing touch and broken ..., drunk in the company of ethnic (or imploded?) '84.
devastate the throat that screams for mercy. We take something stronger? Virtual and Coca-Cola, just as they wanted. Voice, Where Art Thou? In the kick drum or the guitar sbam guitar_boy Mat? Crazy mouse darting between words and smiles of utter indifference. Confusion in my mind. I lost control. I'd scream again. With that guitar that I can not dominate, chords little docile. I lost control and someone claims his CD. Belle and Sebastian do not have them myself. Sterk hair, finally. Low for us, yes? Converse and me, Peacheck. Converse and me. Past that returns an apocalyptic vision of how my mother to the world and the things that happen. I could say that today I live for fruit jellies encountered in the hands of a child of five years. Maybe it works really well. Perhaps this is what could make me reborn. Vocal cords ripped and picks blacks consumed movements vaguely sixties, Virtual & Coca-Cola, who beat sticks hard over the head, trains and fuck the pain away, for the Time Being.
Love for what they neglect. Hate to what hurts me and I will continue to heal. Expression through schitarrate slight as not to cause pain to those who deserve it. Parallel realities are totally different and far He goes by where I do I divide and multiply into a thousand facets that confuse me. My eyes have been at home with the angel wings of straw and white dress that I would fly on my bed, happy. Countless people in my speeches. It omits the names, so to do.
I do not play guitar. I want to scream you.

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Uncoloured and opening up a new virtual world with drumsticks on the desk and the voice of my ears Tuma. Feeling golden wings sprouting from the shoulders of Matilde Davoli. Sfoglio Gattassassina and I find it hard to fall in the blogosphere.