04.Oct.2001
and one
--
and they're making eyes at suburban boys
I somehow feel my moods can be expressed via my Diarylandic headers. As reality becomes much more surreal yet fulfilling than fantasy, my creative juices begin to run dry.
And I really wouldn't mind smearing Clove-taste all over my lips.
I plan on writing music again shortly, if only I weren't so mesmerized by the contrast of my nail-polish against the piano's ivory keys. If only I weren't so somnolence-instilled today.
--
time & machine