On the weekend you departed with your dreams. It’s three hours past the stroke of midnight and all you have to show for it is a cold cup of tea and an empty pack of cigarettes. I will be the first to say how sad.
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Blog Archive
-
▼
2008
(99)
-
▼
June
(18)
- Bound to the Band.
- No title
- Be poetic and keep in mind.
- No title
- Cold tea
- My idea of Europe
- A blank notebook
- Raveonettes
- For the love of Oscar
- And then it came
- A life long full of youthful spirit and debauchery.
- No title
- The mountain green
- No title
- We didn't go into town that night
- newspapers and feral cats
- wither in the rain
- A glimpse of sobriety
-
▼
June
(18)
No comments:
Post a Comment