février 2011
39 billets
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THE GIFT: Vladimir Mayakovsky →
boxxnostik:
A Cloud In Trousers (1915)
Prologue Your thought, Fantasizing on a sodden brain, Like a bloated lackey on a greasy couch sprawling,— With my heart’s bloody tatters, I’ll mock it again. Until I’m contempt, I’ll be ruthless and galling. There’s no grandfatherly fondness in me, …
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janvier 2011
36 billets
Jump rope with the local punks.
Too scared for double dutch though.
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CUTTING MY HAIR OFF THIS WEEKEND
Like, they’re probably gonna need to buzz some of it.
We’d be fools not to ride this strange torpedo to the end.
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Rhythm doesn't make you a dancer. →
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I’m making a guinea pig coffin. Poor little Buttercup, she was so sweet and cuddly. Why did she have to die while I was petsitting?
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