Feeling ungreatful. Stressed anxious.
Doing things I don’t have to, when I should be bringing the joy to the hearts of people around me. I feel full, pampered, pleasured.
When really my decisions, choices, moves, and ideas should be my own.
My letters are scrambled. My ideas. Worthless, thoughless. Gunk, garbled. Its sad for me and anyone that has a string attached. I’ve been crying from lack of sleep.
Balls bleeding, sick and scared.
Yes yes yes. say yes to everything. some kind of fermented, internal struggle, dissonance and self-talking punishment of sadness and fear for the future.
What do I want. What should I do.
where should I be.
How can I save up my energy and be devicive.
Holic or ic ending?
“Melbourne flaky strut sluts”
Alex on the bass.
Carl pulling the stings.
Declan looking like Grease’s very own.
Needing a plundering haircut, and restyle.
Currently defending himself of a sex case.
What a head case. Basket case. Lawyers.
Chicago “all you need is love”
Just an ordinary day for music and strutting.
Is it funny that an armoured car has valubles in it that aren’t people?
Like, they make a deposit of the goods and then by unhappy chance someone tries to rob them and they’d be like: “Nah nothing of value here, just people”.
Megan Jones 24th october 2016 11:51
Plurality gone horribly horribly wrong.
Eendraght Maakt Magt – In union there is strength.
24th october 2016 10:40
Message dad, tell him that I saw spock.
Gloves on. Say nothing
Angrier, red faced. Sore toed.
Pascal; tell me you remember it.
It is it. “iti”
But at some stage I turned.
It all went wrong.
Horrible- I do recall.
I fed you, the wrong. Meat of some kind.
My mind wanted to shut down.
I didn’t think.
I felt ill.
I wanted to run free and explore.
Tired in mind but with a body that was ready to move.
This allegiance disturbed I hated you and everyone.
Rocky Horror Picture Show.
Limousine- yes yes, the big long stretch of things to do.
Oh my how it unravells.
How much danger could I possibly be in?
After you blow out candles, you should make a wish and keep the candles until the with comes true.
Australia and the metric system.
All those double message notes. How strange.
“What do you think of Americans”
-what am I supposed to say.
You guys waffle on.
You talk too much, you’re materialistic.
you’re like Australians.
We have a lot of problems.
You enjoy the good life.
Things aren’t sustainable at the moment.
Its still the morning.
I’m not the best, and you have a very serious face.
You work too hard, you’re under a lot of stress.
Do you want me to congratulate you? Can I lend to your repose.
Solidify and nod. To agree with how you life your life?
I don’t fucking know. It’d day 5.
Customs was horrible, that was the first American in America speaking and his sarcastic tone and horrible mannerisms typified a lot of people’s feelings.
If you want my advice you guys could certainly check yourselves, and be more conscious of the people that you set as your ambassadors.
I’d go into politics, but I know nothing but what I hear other people say.
I’ve never seen Donald Trump put a foot wrong, but nobody seems to like him, what he says says he will do. That’s politics. My mind isn’t up to that sort of cycle of self destructive, mindless, underfunctioning, lie-schemed backwardness.
Ah yes, the waft of incense.
I must still be tired and dehydrated.