Anyway I'm going to come back to dA...
stitched

Imperfection of lifeAre tis what life meant to be says I? So shallow the happiness. Yet deep the bereavement in a soul, Where is that hiding worth my dear friends? The worth of living and loving I say, With the words I spit on you. The words onto this breathless world, Where we choke on our sins.Imperfection of life
So unperfected and lost we are, In tragedy and death. My love for this life dies, Flies into forbidden winds. Which I made with my dying words, Hearts are being crushed and forgotten. So am I dearly I say to you, Not that there is much to say.
Having a meaning
But I shall forever live in your profile!
--
I rise at eleven, I dine about two
I get drunk before seven, and the next thing I do
I send for my whore, when for fear of a clap
I spend in her hand, and I spew in her lap
Your also very attractive physically and your farts smell like cinnamon buns.
--
TaraAntonia.com | RedBubble | Flickr
--
"I've always been mad, I know I've been mad, like the
most of us...very hard to explain why you're mad, even
if you're not mad..."
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