no sense |
is making more sense than thisthere is nothing left to seebut the inside view of a broken mirrorI let go of the hands touched by meand the help I wanted is still theredeeply religious yet not at allmy...
Posted by on Tue, 03 Jun 2008 14:04:00 GMT |
tv inflicted chic |
mia eikona gia ton patera mouna deichnei avto pou vlepomia kithara kai stichoi gia ton aderfo mouna lene avta pou den legontai me protaseiskai to tragudi me melodia gia ti mitera mouna min chreiazonta...
Posted by on Sat, 23 Feb 2008 16:30:00 GMT |
golden ribbon |
I yelled from inside my soul"Na tan na pernage o ponos o diplospou xei tis rizes tou stis stachtes akoumpisiki otan xipniso na tan ola alliosdichos tin enochi mide ti thlipsi...and then it happenedOn ...
Posted by on Mon, 04 Feb 2008 07:53:00 GMT |
Alice |
With alice I go through the land of per versityto make this identificationan everyday routineWith Big Brother leading my steps through a struggle of hate and lovethat divides and stiches my gutI found...
Posted by on Mon, 04 Feb 2008 07:42:00 GMT |
Honey Bunny |
Someone asked me once, what is a honey bunny?I tell you the true storyOnce upon a time there was a young young bunnyIt was very happy and carefree, it would jump around all day longand spent time with...
Posted by on Mon, 04 Feb 2008 07:37:00 GMT |
picture |
it is not accidental
it is a room
a big, wooden room
that stretches out right in front of me
two windows bright open
one on the right
one on the left
the room is completely empty
dark, dark room, dark...
Posted by on Tue, 04 Dec 2007 07:34:00 GMT |
now |
The poets tell youwhats truewhats rightI say Im awakeI say Im aliveThe things we saidthe things we triesare just illusionsscattered in timeMy friends, I know, its time to seethere is nothing left to b...
Posted by on Sun, 18 Nov 2007 08:18:00 GMT |
Peter Pan |
I love youI love you for the one I knowfor the stories we heard when we were kidsfor the smiles of strangers passing on the streetFor the sun we had on a sunday afternoonnot coming too latenot leaving...
Posted by on Sun, 18 Nov 2007 08:15:00 GMT |
to my shadow |
To my shadow (by Souris)
While I am walking slowly
I think someone is after me
but turn around and see you only
and that is when I show you my figs
(fig in greek mutza means showing your hands to some...
Posted by on Fri, 19 Oct 2007 09:36:00 GMT |
Boom |
Music and words have crashed against eachothercompletely oppositecausing death and orgasmand this is the story of my birthmusic is a motherwords are a fatherand this is how the story goesand there are...
Posted by on Sun, 06 May 2007 11:16:00 GMT |
