you believe in the red-painted fingernails of fate that attracts many colorful threads of our lives so well everything has a reason, a meaning in the universe, a task that no matter how small . Everything seems to be woven together, everything seems connected to each other - so hooked into each other, as we were right from the start. Fate - because if you only believe in it - we had together, led us to each other, we made one.
I had never believed in fate. The fact that we - because some, not tangible events - suddenly found themselves in a much more complicated relationships than we previously did was a pure coincidence, a happy coincidence of their suffering, my desire and love.
When her lover was a sadist. The hell they had created from his broken bed springs, you breathed into his dead breath. If they waived the physical pain, she waited like a spider spit in their system to me words like poison in the mouth to the eyes, in my heart.
She was the personification of hate, if she loved. But hatred was good, hatred was passion, and passion was contagious than a flu virus.
The lion was deaf, blind and dumb. "If it makes you happy," he said one evening with a half-hearted smile and exchanged a glance with the Queen, who was sitting opposite with her legs spread on the sofa and grinned sucked on a cocktail.
He kept her away, I swore allegiance and I clung to her as something in me laughed at him that he was so used to the idea of a stable relationship, clinging somewhere on the idea of a large family of small, outside the big city, which killed me every day and to life.
I hated that I kind of thought about him. I hated him for having me so much wanted and loved. I earned nothing at all. The Queen was right. Did they ever. Why I ever doubted it?
"You taste like sunrise," she said with a serious face and let her tongue slowly across the corrosive slide tattoo on my thigh, "after a beautiful golden sunrise."
"You taste like brownies. Sometimes, "I replied," after which the dark brown liquid Core. You taste just after. Do you think that there are brownies with strawberry flavor? "I stared at her. Her eyes were pupils. My probably is. "I like strawberries and I'm not shit so warm."
The Queen giggled, blew through my hair. ". Very, very many butterflies, very many butterflies"
Something in me wanted me to Hendrix's Purple Haze the best were - and I did it without thought, while those pesky butterflies in my hair, my ears and my nostrils distribution.
"tickles me in everything," she said, laughing, laughed again and stroked my cheek, "you look like through a kaleidoscope."
I kept humming. Reaching for the stars burned me in them, watched as they crumbled to dust, and gently kissed the ground, met with him in a violent embrace, with him were one, fused, melted, melted.
"You know what?" Her black hair fell into my face and with her hair, three tons of feathers and the smell of apricots. "You know what? My baby? The bad, bad powder has killed it. The evil powder. "
I found that funny, so I laughed. She laughed with me. "Funny," she said softly, "funny. I always thought that small children like magic powder. "
" Maybe it was just a wimp. "
" Maybe it's kicked the bucket by a nosebleed. "
We laughed again. It was incredibly easy. She was incredibly easy. I was incredibly easy. My head, oh, my head, my body ...
"Now you stay thin and can eat as many butterflies as you like," I added, humming again. She was humming to briefly and began to laugh again, "You know what? You know what? I believe that you will kill him and you through the bad powder. "
. But he should be suffocated, the stupid asshole "I spit the word with such disgust on the ground that the individual characters left stains on the carpet - blood red, blood red, blood red. "But what do I do then, so lonely, so lonely? I think I can not live without him. "
Then elapsed hours. Perhaps only minutes or seconds. Precious time. The world was bright and beautiful. She spat pink hearts and chocolate pieces on my stomach, I threw up neon green lightness in the sky.
"If he's gone" - her voice sounded like the stormy sea - "then there is you" - and her fingers dug into my white breast, pressed relentlessly on the strawberry, it squeezed out - "and me. Only us. And the arms of Snow White. "
I laughed. She laughed. We were easy. Then she sat up, put his hand in the flying Medusa hair and whispered: "I think I'm on a trip."
"good idea" - it was all over me about "I had never believed in fate. The fact that we - because some, not tangible events - suddenly found themselves in a much more complicated relationships than we previously did was a pure coincidence, a happy coincidence of their suffering, my desire and love.
When her lover was a sadist. The hell they had created from his broken bed springs, you breathed into his dead breath. If they waived the physical pain, she waited like a spider spit in their system to me words like poison in the mouth to the eyes, in my heart.
She was the personification of hate, if she loved. But hatred was good, hatred was passion, and passion was contagious than a flu virus.
The lion was deaf, blind and dumb. "If it makes you happy," he said one evening with a half-hearted smile and exchanged a glance with the Queen, who was sitting opposite with her legs spread on the sofa and grinned sucked on a cocktail.
He kept her away, I swore allegiance and I clung to her as something in me laughed at him that he was so used to the idea of a stable relationship, clinging somewhere on the idea of a large family of small, outside the big city, which killed me every day and to life.
I hated that I kind of thought about him. I hated him for having me so much wanted and loved. I earned nothing at all. The Queen was right. Did they ever. Why I ever doubted it?
"You taste like sunrise," she said with a serious face and let her tongue slowly across the corrosive slide tattoo on my thigh, "after a beautiful golden sunrise."
"You taste like brownies. Sometimes, "I replied," after which the dark brown liquid Core. You taste just after. Do you think that there are brownies with strawberry flavor? "I stared at her. Her eyes were pupils. My probably is. "I like strawberries and I'm not shit so warm."
The Queen giggled, blew through my hair. ". Very, very many butterflies, very many butterflies"
Something in me wanted me to Hendrix's Purple Haze the best were - and I did it without thought, while those pesky butterflies in my hair, my ears and my nostrils distribution.
"tickles me in everything," she said, laughing, laughed again and stroked my cheek, "you look like through a kaleidoscope."
I kept humming. Reaching for the stars burned me in them, watched as they crumbled to dust, and gently kissed the ground, met with him in a violent embrace, with him were one, fused, melted, melted.
"You know what?" Her black hair fell into my face and with her hair, three tons of feathers and the smell of apricots. "You know what? My baby? The bad, bad powder has killed it. The evil powder. "
I found that funny, so I laughed. She laughed with me. "Funny," she said softly, "funny. I always thought that small children like magic powder. "
" Maybe it was just a wimp. "
" Maybe it's kicked the bucket by a nosebleed. "
We laughed again. It was incredibly easy. She was incredibly easy. I was incredibly easy. My head, oh, my head, my body ...
"Now you stay thin and can eat as many butterflies as you like," I added, humming again. She was humming to briefly and began to laugh again, "You know what? You know what? I believe that you will kill him and you through the bad powder. "
. But he should be suffocated, the stupid asshole "I spit the word with such disgust on the ground that the individual characters left stains on the carpet - blood red, blood red, blood red. "But what do I do then, so lonely, so lonely? I think I can not live without him. "
Then elapsed hours. Perhaps only minutes or seconds. Precious time. The world was bright and beautiful. She spat pink hearts and chocolate pieces on my stomach, I threw up neon green lightness in the sky.
"If he's gone" - her voice sounded like the stormy sea - "then there is you" - and her fingers dug into my white breast, pressed relentlessly on the strawberry, it squeezed out - "and me. Only us. And the arms of Snow White. "
I laughed. She laughed. We were easy. Then she sat up, put his hand in the flying Medusa hair and whispered: "I think I'm on a trip."
Ride it out
." , above her, above the sky, above the ground, above me, above me. And then we were no longer two but one, hunted together behind the white rabbit.
." , above her, above the sky, above the ground, above me, above me. And then we were no longer two but one, hunted together behind the white rabbit.
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