April 5, 2010


Dessa saker kan inte glömmas bort.

Tired secrets of badly used garlic.
Deception on the hot starters frontier.
And a distant void on what they call growing your own ingredients.

The diaries of an eight lived soul sizzles with pure questions.
Some of them have a delicious answer and some of them are lost in time,well...maybe not lost but surely not found yet.

Like autumn once said:
Its a matter of time until all the leaves grow and like everything else,fall.Its just a matter of time son.

Sure you can reach up for the sunrise but who are you kidding?no one can beat time,not even this so called temperate season.You will fail and fall eventually.

He asked for a bycicle card package or a ticket to Sweden and Bucharest but instead he got a dead person and tons of unanswered questions. Hey big red fatty,can you answer some of these questions?...

When does an abyss end?
What do you say when he is on a fetal position every day?
What do you do when he wants to take a step back on a thing that is already done and "running"?
How can he spend countless hours sleep and the only thing he cannot do is sleep or merely close those beautiful spheres of life called eyes?
By that i mean.Didnt get it?...well...how about this?...instead of giving him a brand new shiny toy or a brand new bycicle you give him a couple of somniferos and some more setraline.Rest assured i will give em to him

Hes outta shape and youre making him run a few hundred miles...hes underwater.
Wondering if hes dead or alive.

Hes so lucky to have her,shes a winter detour on his fucked up road called life.

Its like if winter was speaking to fierce fire.

Hell never never be beyond me.
But we will meet again.
We always do.