~*~OODLES~*~OF~*~WEIRD~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~ for Saturday, February 24, 2007

You're not even home. I can't hear your voice. There's almost no sign of you. I'm content and distracted. But then I'm always reminded of you. Not even in eating can I forget you. Why am I so used to living beside you, you grumbling, moody, (yet sexy) kraut! Hell I can't complain about getting space... Sign in to see full entry.

It's a confession. The way people can't help but express. And show themselve's carelessly- They will always confess... made excuses for his cash... described the amount... and how much he'd spent (on what, I've know doubt.) We all have a tell We can't help but hide Our motives, our demons, In our... Sign in to see full entry.