Calling bluffs with fisticuffs.

Felt too much, did she feel a thing?
Long, dark hair, never saw her cry.
In two halves I was torn,
My maybe love who wouldn't even try.
She loves me, she loves me not.
I saw you only yesterday.
We shared a smile, then went our separate ways.
Perhaps one day?
Never mind.
All the nights we shared, were we just killing time?

She loves me, she loves me not.

For all the things I said to her and all the ways I tried,
And all the things I did for her, they're lost, with one goodbye.

She loves me, she love me not.
She loves me, she loves me not.

Why would someone want to be on Lithium? They make batteries out of that fucking shit. I sit with my doona wrapped around me in bed. It's all punishment and false religion.
Where did the plane in Pennsylvania go?
Is it hiding where the wild things are?
Making mixtapes for your own life is the new making mixtapes for a potential partner. And that ain't bad news. Only smooth and good with a hood.
Clitoral stimulation, your boyfriend needs education or possibly a lesson, on how to get that zip down, without the file compression.
Depression, leaving personalities split like peas. War is Peace.
Rotten since birth, and only now just ripe enough to eat.
Open up your mouth, because it's close to your brain. I heard that the female mouth and genitalia are exactly the the same capacity wise. Example, if I can fit my fist in your mouth, be careful.
I disgust myself.
Just what I needed. A job. It could all fall into my lap this time.
But if "all" is a hot cup of Soto or Exomod coffee, it might be worse than I imagined.

Exit music for a Blog - Theme from A Clockwork Orange by Walter Carlos and Rachel Elkind.

I want to beat the fuck out.

NB. Just received a broken ceramic tile from Budapest with either a small hat, a marker scrawling or a weird T shape scribbled on it in blue permanent marker. Boy, am I lucky. Also I apparently have a doctorate in something, which is fucken a'.