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It leaves me searching for atmosphere Coz mediocrity is something I fear And she dances with me in the depths of night She glitters like the stars shining in twilight In the dark she's fine but in the dawn she flips That's why I wait for an eclipse And I want to talk but I get no advice The fragments of my feelings in the pale moonlight I continue to burn she continues to glow And a stream of conversation becomes a flow I need to learn my own psychology But it doesn't make it better when she's messing with me The studs came down and she was drinking their shots Take a good look at what you've dropped I'm in the mood for some, mood for some, mood for repetition But she changes so much that I'm deconditioned Glancing through life when my thoughts are scattered Maybe I'd just like to think that I mattered Nights on her own or with other people Nights with her own all those lovely people Look at the town all the empty people Look at the sea and all the drowning people I have 80 minutes and they don't pass fast Time is slow when you're the worst in the class And it's dark round here and I feel so sound Why look up when you feel so down?

She says she's joined a band but it's one that I'm in Pathways are clear for a lifetime of sin Cohesion is vague and the end unclear Countdown to breakdown is drawing near The only ever things that drive me away Are the things people do and the things that they say And the smell of the city leaves me sick Conditions are fine for a lunatic I remember things weren't always the same But when I used to care I got a bad name It leaves me searching for atmosphere Coz mediocrity is something I fear And she dances with me in the depths of night She glitters like the stars shining in twilight In the dark she's fine but in the dawn she flips That's why I wait for an eclipse And I want to talk but I get no advice The fragments of my feelings in the pale moonlight I continue to burn she continues to glow And a stream of conversation becomes a flow Compartilhar no Facebook Compartilhar no Twitter.

Auto rolagem Texto Restaurar Corrigir letra Imprimir. Mais acessadas de Technohead. Dance Marusha. Critical Mass. Deep breath….. Unable to speak, I did something that became my signature move. Even at that early age I knew women preferred a good smelling man. My friends mocked me for dancing with Lisa.

The boys never understood.

Why dance with other girls if I was already dancing with the prettiest one? I felt the universe collapsing on me.

Fragments Of Me (Words)

Boys laughed. Girls gave me dirty looks. Now, I had to answer this…. We visited a friend of my father.

Alone Again

Mingling adults with drinks in hand and hyperactive children filled every room of the dinner party. To my surprise I discovered an oasis as I entered a room of wall to wall books. Nearing a shelf, a closing door startled me. Writers create worlds. His hand slapped the back of my head. My son is not going to be a faggot. Hours later that little boy stood at his bedroom window while his parents slept in the other room.

Fragments Of Me.

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Fragments Of Me Time. She pointed at her notebook full of butterfly drawings. Staggering to my feet, a second punch caught the side of my mouth.

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I twirled like Julie Andrews on a hillside. Furious with my inability to fight the bully, my angry father sent me to school with my busted lip, swollen cheek, and black eye.

Fragments | an Unkindness

Later, in a cafeteria full of boys and butterflies, that little boy realized being a hero had nothing to do with winning. On a day when he stood at his office window, watching the World Trade Center towers collapse before his eyes. I was summoned to the phone. Barely eleven, I listened to my mother sobbing. Apparently, my drunkard father slapped her in front of all their friends. Two flights up, I unlocked the door with a spare key. Moonlight filled the dark apartment. Terrified, I walked through the quiet living room until I reached the long hallway leading to the back of our home.

The man I hated for all of my young life, the tyrant who abused us, lay on the floor with a gun resting inches from his hand. Fighting the urge to run away, I approached him. The rise and fall of his back confirmed he lived. I thought of tucking it in my pants like they do in the movies. Then a odd thought crept into my mind.


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There by the river, in a city of eight million people, surrounded by a magnificent skyline, I never felt so alone. That little boy stood there another hour, admiring the crescent moon, the river, and the city he called home. Skip to content. This is an old post for my newer blogging friends to get to know me.


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It posted three years ago. Fragments of Me When we were young our lives consisted of questions. The questions we needed answered.

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The hundreds of questions our parents and teachers asked. But a ten year old was never meant to have all the answers. My friends taunted me. From across the room I admired her. Who cares if she had rounder cheeks than the other girls? She had curves. Everyone watched us dance as I impressed her with witty banter. How much pressure could one ten year old take?

Searching for infinite wisdom, I gazed into her big blue eyes and whispered.