Sometimes you just say Fuck
Sometimes you just feel tired.
I know, have a ball always talking about the same things, but if you break do you read? eh eh
reflect on my obsession with truth and sincerity.
Unfortunately you can not always tell it like it is, sometimes you just do not have the right to tell the truth. It seems strange, I know, but sometimes it is not always the right thing to do, sometimes you do not must do at all. This awareness
me angry. Ok, to you my problems you do not give a fuck, and there are things that do not really want to know, but often get to do.
Why?! If you do not care just do not ask. Keep your curiosity for you, if curiosity is, because the label that makes you ask me I just do not give a damn balls. You and your fucking label.
You see the problem of today is just that. There are too many things you MUST do, even if you do not have the desire, the intention nor the slightest interest in them.
"You have to do" but that joke? Why all these labels? This be forced to say something and others think otherwise hurt.
The only thing I should say and do is scream in the face to all a good fuck.
Of those that fill the mouth, cheeks fill them feel when you reach the "c". The "u" that fills your throat as you hear a roar go up like a raging river.
"I see you down, okay?"
"the facts and your cock while you're going to hell"
said with all the calm of the world, so they express the coolness with which such an application subjection.
Then enjoy the face of those who asked the question. Almost in shock with surprise. A real punch in the face. Unexpected, awesome, cool.
BAM
slammed in your face all their respectability and their label.
bag it up your ass your label.
You're sitting in front of you is a great table prepared. The tablecloth and fine hand-decorated, full of lace. A white angelic purity. Meticulous skilled hands and have worked with infinite care every inch of this fabric. The silverware, arranged with great order and precision, spoons and knives and forks to the right on the left. The spoon in front of the large plate on which is placed to fund the first. The glasses arranged neatly in the top right corner, comfortable to be taken with the main hand. The delicate crystal glasses. Transparent, ravines on which it Stragliati rays of light are refracted at millions of colors. All the delicacy and fragile beauty in a single cup them in front of you.
meals have taken hours to prepare and infinite patience, lush, tasty, sour, spicy, sweet, savory. They are all there in front of you to decorate the entrancing scenery that stands in front of you on this board. Monument to the abundance, the glitz.
Your hands taking under the table. The fingers tightening on the edge, jumping up and overturn, throwing him against the wall.
Then you stop, time slows down, the shooting speed of the table and see it slowly fading away from you more slowly.
The dishes, cutlery, tablecloth at first seem glued to the table, then the first course begins to separate, then forks, spoons, glasses, food. All
in slow motion crashes into the wall, going to pieces, followed by the crash of the table.
The noise of wood against the wall and shatter the crystal prezziosissimo shall start time running hours at normal speed.
All that arrogance, that represented by all the pomp of lace cock fucking fucking crystal and flatware, positioned in places that some jerk felt right.
You are standing, looking at the table torn, and the looks of stunned onlookers who stare. A hint of a smile appears
on your lips, then quickly disappears and gives way to a grimace of anger when you throw on the table beat them with their feet and enjoying the rub of the crystal.
For a few seconds is the absolute fury. The brain is disconnected, you're berserk and that the world is watching.
Then you turn around, grab the handle and you are free.
Sometimes you just feel tired.
I know, have a ball always talking about the same things, but if you break do you read? eh eh
reflect on my obsession with truth and sincerity.
Unfortunately you can not always tell it like it is, sometimes you just do not have the right to tell the truth. It seems strange, I know, but sometimes it is not always the right thing to do, sometimes you do not must do at all. This awareness
me angry. Ok, to you my problems you do not give a fuck, and there are things that do not really want to know, but often get to do.
Why?! If you do not care just do not ask. Keep your curiosity for you, if curiosity is, because the label that makes you ask me I just do not give a damn balls. You and your fucking label.
You see the problem of today is just that. There are too many things you MUST do, even if you do not have the desire, the intention nor the slightest interest in them.
"You have to do" but that joke? Why all these labels? This be forced to say something and others think otherwise hurt.
The only thing I should say and do is scream in the face to all a good fuck.
Of those that fill the mouth, cheeks fill them feel when you reach the "c". The "u" that fills your throat as you hear a roar go up like a raging river.
"I see you down, okay?"
"the facts and your cock while you're going to hell"
said with all the calm of the world, so they express the coolness with which such an application subjection.
Then enjoy the face of those who asked the question. Almost in shock with surprise. A real punch in the face. Unexpected, awesome, cool.
BAM
slammed in your face all their respectability and their label.
bag it up your ass your label.
You're sitting in front of you is a great table prepared. The tablecloth and fine hand-decorated, full of lace. A white angelic purity. Meticulous skilled hands and have worked with infinite care every inch of this fabric. The silverware, arranged with great order and precision, spoons and knives and forks to the right on the left. The spoon in front of the large plate on which is placed to fund the first. The glasses arranged neatly in the top right corner, comfortable to be taken with the main hand. The delicate crystal glasses. Transparent, ravines on which it Stragliati rays of light are refracted at millions of colors. All the delicacy and fragile beauty in a single cup them in front of you.
meals have taken hours to prepare and infinite patience, lush, tasty, sour, spicy, sweet, savory. They are all there in front of you to decorate the entrancing scenery that stands in front of you on this board. Monument to the abundance, the glitz.
Your hands taking under the table. The fingers tightening on the edge, jumping up and overturn, throwing him against the wall.
Then you stop, time slows down, the shooting speed of the table and see it slowly fading away from you more slowly.
The dishes, cutlery, tablecloth at first seem glued to the table, then the first course begins to separate, then forks, spoons, glasses, food. All
in slow motion crashes into the wall, going to pieces, followed by the crash of the table.
The noise of wood against the wall and shatter the crystal prezziosissimo shall start time running hours at normal speed.
All that arrogance, that represented by all the pomp of lace cock fucking fucking crystal and flatware, positioned in places that some jerk felt right.
You are standing, looking at the table torn, and the looks of stunned onlookers who stare. A hint of a smile appears
on your lips, then quickly disappears and gives way to a grimace of anger when you throw on the table beat them with their feet and enjoying the rub of the crystal.
For a few seconds is the absolute fury. The brain is disconnected, you're berserk and that the world is watching.
Then you turn around, grab the handle and you are free.
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