Reply With QuoteEntry #1 : Ouatte de fuk
Yes's unsophisticated writing.
OK, so this is the place you come if you want read my stupid lines.
Thanks! :D
Entry #1 : Ouatte de fuk
please keep posting. I like your posts
If your headphones aren’t beats by dre you’re a peasant :^)
Entry #1 Edit :
Ouatte De Phoque.
Entry #2: Seal's cotton balls.
Closure : What the fuck?
thank you
my photo blog: http://colemanbishop.blogspot.com/
^My pleasure. I'm just sooo out of ideas right now. So they're probably going to come out like the random-est stuff I've ever written.
Second edit : Ouate de phoque. Simple error.
But yeah. I'm going to post some other day in the week. Maybe tomorrow. I don't know.
I'll keep reading
my photo blog: http://colemanbishop.blogspot.com/
Thanks man that means a lot to me.Originally Posted by Lisztomania
vlad created a first year art student out of a recent teen, bravo
www.btkart.tumblr.com
Entry #3:
Is it possible to explore life in a natural way?
He said, lying in his bed.
Intruder came.
It came into his head.
Although he thought it was always there.
He opened the door and ran outside.
''Are you enjoying life right now?''
No, this is all an illusion.
But was his intruder at the border of accomplishment?
And the most important, was HE borderline cuckoo?
He stopped.
He drew a self image.
No, no. He was only silly.
He ran back to his prison and seduced himself to sleep.
Usually, he raped his nervous system to sleep.
Intruder ''camped''.
The cuckoo sang and yelled.
''Wake up, it's tomorrow.''
Milk sun's pierced flesh eating mini oreo necklace.
Flashing passiflore star. Fired up petals.
Fast arrow-headed flying bird. Green diesel carrying car.
Back on road, he goes. Closes his eyes.
Screaming mellotrons, englobing trumpets.
Arbitrary construct has fell down.
In that world.
duuuuuuuuuuuuuuuude. yes yes yes yes
"Flashing passiflore star. Fired up petals.
Fast arrow-headed flying bird."
"Arbitrary construct has fell down.
In that world."
If your headphones aren’t beats by dre you’re a peasant :^)
hahaha xD
This is not a poem.
I am writing this with some difficulties. I have made myself a mullein tea 20 minutes ago.
I picked up my guitar and did some soundscape with alot of reverb and things.
I was playing with a stupid smile. Because I felt good about my playing.
I felt creative. Now I feel a bit sleepy. Sedative effects are kicking in.
The joint didn't really work tho.
Anyways, if you find some mullein, try to make a tea out of it or somethin'. Don't expect a high or something cuz it's pretty mild. But it's definitely working.
When sound meets inner eyes.
Hanging crystal sparkling and dandling around.
Happiness overall sound.
Feels floating in a thick air field.
Cette épaisse et belle aire qui me maintient en suspension.
This beat virtually pounding in your veins.
This hazardous distorted strumming.
That will eventually never blend in.
True expectation and false placebo.
This is what happens when I listen to Foxes in Fiction. < (not part of the text)
what the fuck Yes.
punpunpun
How is he so good at this. holy crap.
If your headphones aren’t beats by dre you’re a peasant :^)
lol Am I really THAT good? I mean, I write what I feel really... Like I invent things, it's hard to explain but I just like to combine expressions together creating some kind of magical meaning or a complex paradox.
Ok, now that I've told you that I'm aware, it obviously makes you aware.
And now that I told you THIS, it makes you even more aware.
And now that I told you THIS, it makes you even more aware.
And now that I told you THIS, it makes you even more aware.
And now that I told you THIS, it makes you even more aware.
And now that I told you THIS, it makes you even more aware.
And now that I told you THIS, it makes you even more aware.
And because I'm telling you this, it's making you aware.
He keeps growing his awareness.
To the infiniti.
And It all turns out that it's still the same thing.
Back to square one.
But isn't THIS making him more aware AGAIN?
Yes, until he falls into a deep black hole of complexity.
He can only try to get back his sanity.
But he's too confused.
So he keeps the same old mindset.
Turn the TV on, turn the mobile devices on. Get back on the social media.
Get back in your row and do what your told.
Fuck, I hate doing these text for some reason. lol
This wise man climbed the mountain.
Early morning dew, ball-freezing temperature.
Going through the mysteriously beautiful thick brume.
The sounds of grandiose minimalist music.
The air going amidst the pressed cymbals.
Guitar on his back, balance on his weight.
Balance between his wellness and madness.
Object of naturalness, of neutralness.
This black waterside on the black mountainside.
Feel the wind cover your visage, or your social figure.
On the deep path of loneliness, or of risk.
Adventure, you request, or simply just a test.
Of your well being.
If all fails, plan your fleeing of freeing.
Don't be strong, feel strong.
What happened to you wise man?
Are you too wise to contain all of it?
Or do you just ''understand it all'' now?
What used to be a simple journey, became into a difficult passage.
Controlled by his needing to talk.
The wise man took his guitar and sailed off into a trip.
Quand je me réveillerai, tu me racontera.
can you speak french? or do you just like it?
lmao
French's my first language.
awesome! want to learn so bad.
lmao
me too
my photo blog: http://colemanbishop.blogspot.com/
You speak French too..? or you want to learn it?
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