Tonight, I write to you things I've ever written. I would write you worms would weigh a ton and I'll be raising the torn ...
Tonight I want to know how to write both words. Sentences. Simple. To be remembered. Without rhyme. Than yours.
Tonight, I want so many things that words do not come. I would like ... I want. Indeed. She talking about two glasses. Between two verbs. Between two stages. A time-cons. I do my present my past ... My past, I spend my future hell. I write backwards ... I write upside down. I wrote that all that was yesterday ... of time ...
Tonight, the letters become blurred ... And the music takes me back to my extreme ... In my madness. In my hysteria.
Tonight, the night has no point of reference. She has more than lair. But you'll tell me that it's been years ... Seconds, light years away.
Tonight I do not care ...
La Rue said she may be crazy ... It may be waiting another bottle ... Another SOS ... Another love ... Other wonders.
This street was ours ...
Tonight I want to write this life accordion ... Without an agreement "on", not even "us" ...
Tonight ... I would describe the sound of the unspoken and the sound of silence.
Tilou Flaw: a poorly calibrated heart that beats within his chest .... But no matter because held in His Hand to her ... http://pititeshistoiressansconckence.blogspot.com/ 
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