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hazel st.
there was no connecting my actions with words. in the bright sunlight, the movement of birds. the car ride home, was blinded again. the light would not focus, the light would not bend. there’s no use calling i know what you’d say. over and over it ended today. words lost their meaning and could not explain, why the subject was always just out of frame.

i was sixteen, i lived on hazel street. protect me from the scene and guide me with your heat. ice forms in sheets, there melting in the street. 		////////////////// bitácora de viaje
lunes, 6 de enero de 2014, 21:59
hola, chismosx,

solo uso este blog para probrar plantillas html.

bye