under the blanket

ar trebui sa fac o noua categorie. pentru aberatiile de noapte, lansate de sub patura, cu un picior pe-afara pt a nu muri de tot de cald. as scrie despre oameni morti azi, because l feel l am reaching the depressive "corner" of myself.

so...dead people don't walk, but mine do. they don't think nor breathe. mine might as well stink, but not like a well-dead-dead.
my dead ppl are good-dead-ppl. they are kind and sweet, even funnier than me [and that's something].
some of them are passionate, others poetically-pathetic or enigmatic.

something makes them even - the fact that they're all dead, one way or another, or another, or another [and so on...there are, l think, endless possibilities according to which someone might be considered dead].

but you are not, my friend. neither did they, at first. something changed on the way to your gorgeous fortress:
l, with my impulsive, egocentric, paranoid self. shall take it slowly and hope we won't succomb.

Comentarii

  1. I've got dead people on my blog as well... There's something in the atmosphere, darling, innit?

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  2. Then: Yeah, I think it's some kind of a cloud. Sick and dark.

    Now: Mine is gone, hope yours too. :)

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