Friday, April 16, 2010

What Do Fill My Punching Bag With?

Silent shadow of the willow

Hearts of asbestos that clash scratching one another in a perpetual drip of deafening noises, buzzing and scratching frizzy, pain and love, thought, scratch that falls into a powder by shaking thud.
Far from every dream, sleep peaceful at the top of anything that you've built, suffering from a tear crying wasted. Cogiti before me now a vain hope, sought and lost in the multiplicity of your adventures, so that now I suffer listening to your complaint.
Domains c'investe caste in silence, in this rainy day losing fixed points of the now tired of walking boots. B & W ill set, frost ramps to boil your own, devouring my compartment outraged cry of peace.

You were never so severe, acuente sippur in greeting.
Now come with me to want the buzz to set about meeting the ancient ghosts,
direct Executioner, tutt'innanzi to pray.
I repent, admit it, the omission of a typical
I pass my imperfections or to wipe away the acid from beating me.

Lost has run, de la willing to fight, she lost all hope has run, I'm staying here
balance
Damn you as well, but indisputably of constancy.

Dumbledore loses me in vain sorrows now
Mancami you, that I speak not of love.