Friday, February 27, 2009

Charlie Sheen Bowling

She Did not Mean to Do It

Oh, she was sad, oh, she was sad.
She didn't mean to do it.

Certain thrills stay tucked in your limbs,
go no further than your fingers, move your legs through their paces,
but no more. Certain thrills knock you flat
on your sheets on your bed in your room and you fade
and they fade. You falter and they're gone, gone, gone.
Certain thrills puff off you like smoke rings,
some like bell rings growing out, out, turning
brass, steel, gold, till the whole world's filled
with the gonging of your thrills.

But oh, she was sad, she was just sad, sad,
and She Did not mean to do it.

(Daisy Fried)

* To whom sent e-mail to know about me, if the site was dead, and things like this:

Post-it : this site is made of hidden pages.

I can see it just me, and will remain so. I'm sorry.

Not because people did not already listen to me, of course.
But it's too nice a feeling that I can write here, and throw me to write any crap the head, and scroll down to the bottom of the abyss where not to drag anyone else, soggy depths of sand with paper walls from which there is no return.

(for those depths I have led so many, I need to channel all this on something that does not breathe and think and no one gets hurt)

But, you get free. Free not to injure, not to justify.

be anything I want.

Dear old diary, in short:)

And if someone goes: salveciaograzie and scusamacosa cifaiqui dick?


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