Secret Costumes Poptropica

Absurd

Labour and Corrections in progress ...

1.  Sensualités divergentes

Je veux que tu sois ma nourriture et je serais la tiennes.  J'attends que le vent se lève, qu'il emporte tout sur son passage, que la pluie déferle des cieux et lave la terre souillé, que l'univers change les fondations de ses sens, pour pouvoir, enfin, être ce qui est et par cela même, ce que nous sommes toi et moi.  Mais qu'attendons-nous, que cherchons-nous, et toi que veux-tu?  L'univers ne t'attends pas, tu as clôt un espace au milieu de ma route, et j'en ai assez de me dire que c'est mon chemin qui traverse ton domaine.  I want a trivial space, a moment full of sensuality, a place where the transient is not a parenthesis in your absence, a place devoid of all raw memories, a piece of time where if I remember you Please always tell me what I think and feel, this causes your frustration.

2. Empty Desires &

None of my tears can not go back to its source, nothing tells me what is right or not is not. The horizon collapses into chaos, on the road. And the chimneys burn the sky in the background of a landscape that winter and the mist still nibbles. An extensive vapid and dull but the fine lines ; and light enhances the pride of the simple. The size of the vacuum which is filled with my candor and my desire to doze in a peaceful tranquility.

3 . Gods mad

I wanted to be swept away in a whirlwind of madness but there are only dreams, I would fly away and disappear in the clouds but there are only a dream. The reality is different than good bit of fiction, which can therefore say that not a single moment did he ceased to be only right and submission to it. I'm nothing, no tangible and so what if I lose the reason, but I sail on a raft in the middle of the flowers this time. And so the gods are having fun, the trap is set and is closed, stuck like a spring that is stretched in one direction to relax in each other eternally. The mechanism is raised to block entertaining and is cruel gods images of our own weaknesses. We fall from a great height, but a pedestal steeped in surreal, in a sick mind. Hold your tongue gods cruel and infamous, but for Who do you think you?

4. The paranoid and the perfectionist who hear

Stop! Edges up, I can not go, stop taking anything of what is thought, said or dreamed about as a way to tell you. Stop impose a precedence stutter, I do not want to be taken in response to each and all. I want to remain empty, for a moment. Listen to a bit of what exists outside of your schema to think or disappear on the spot! You look like a demon more mathematical and contradictory by what he is made to shoot the methodical destruction of mere mortals and their expectations. Elitism against populism, top against bottom, gods mortals cons well against evil, as if the world was headed. In a place where the rules that's being built can never last, we suffer from never having enough of one life.

Eric, 02/011, ty, be.

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