I am a Capricorn, the epitome for rich and ambitious pricks who don’t care about you.
I’ll write my own horoscope, thank you. I don’t wish for a pseudo-journalist with too much time on his/her hands and a shitty job to determine which planet gives me money (thank you, Jupiter) or which one makes me fall in love.
There’s no such thing as love. Only carrer and success.
Pic.
I miss the mountain air. This is how all my thoughts start lately, so I dive in and take in a little piece of city air to keep me warm and safe from harm.
I miss whatever it is that makes me walk. This is how all my thoughts start at the end of the day, when I realise I’ve done nothing. So I take just one more step and out I go.
I miss flowing. This sound weird, I know, but there was a time when everything was flowing around me, and that time seems so golden and peaceful now, I can’t help but miss it.
I sometimes miss me. This one is something I can’t understand, because how could I misplace me? It’s a question without answer and a plate without food, so I try to move on each time this horrible thought enters me.
Pic.
I am a horror story; you should be afraid to pick me up, lead me on, make me fall in love with you, let me down and break my heart.
Cause if you do all those things, I promise you I’ll hunt you down, because I don’t let go that easily, I’ll take my soul back and leave you there for dead.
Pic.
I’d turn my wine in water,
And turn my tears laughter,
And while conversing with myself,
I’d like to think that I can help.
But words are means and means are middle,
And who but me can solve this riddle?
I’d like to think, if need arises,
My spirit haunts a thousand houses.
The fear is poetry,
Said my crow.
And feathers were running away from it.
An island of non-sense,
Do I make any sense?!
The crow asked me
And flew away from me.
It left me with horns
And spikes
And trembles.
No pieces of tomorrow,
I’m just cloathed in sorrow.
Please ignore my vegetative state. I did listen to the new HURTS album all day long, but now my interest shifted towards IAMX and I Come With Knives and Noblesse Oblige and all the decadent sounds in my life.
I hang my god
And rest my words,
Inside my wounds,
There’s only fog.
All that was left,
All that was gone,
As I remember
You stood undone.
Parfumată ca o ceapă,
În timp ce mergi pe apă,
Îti cauți tu de treabă
Și nimeni nu te-ntreabă
Ce cați in ăst cartier,
Dacă ai paine de ieri,
De știi, cumva, de vorbă
Și unde-i sarea pentru ciorbă.
Elegantă, cum ești tu,
N-ai invățat să spui că nu
Cunosti, nu știi, nu te interesează,
Dar știi să spui că ești cam brează.
Tu ești frumoasă si le știi pe toate,
Ai ochii plicticoși și-n coate
Ești ascuțită, deși nu-ți place prazul,
Nu ești olteancă, dar gros iți e obrazul!
Da, știu, mă placi de nu mai poți,
Așa ii minți in fiecare zi pe toți.
De limba-ți ascuțită și de coate ne ferim,
Ca de o cruce pe deasupra noastră-n țintirim.
Ești o simpatică și cred că ți-am mai spus,
Chiar dacă știi că te privesc de sus,
Nu numai din pricina inălțimii,
Ci și din cauza micimii.