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The flame of a devouring entity. Just blame it one...

She rejected all oharrow - and no one even understood why.

She said she found it [the bow] in the tomb of the Ice Queen. And believed her.

In my veins not a drop of blood wastage - it's all in my hands.

The wind carries a song,
And who knows.
The one to whom she will understand.
From whom he would know.
Lacey W my song,
Song of hope sweet...
Someone will remember about me
And sighs furtively.

I just want to say that not all can spoil. Suddenly she is kind and that's it.
- There's never just good. You'll see.

- Madness is a flexible bullet.<...> the editor said. - This phrase, or rather, the image of "flexible bullet" is taken from Marianne Moore. She used it when describing someone's car. But I always thought that he very well describes just the state of madness. It is a sort of intellectual suicide. In my opinion, and doctors now argue that the only true definition of death is the death of intelligence. And the madness is a flexible bullet entering the brain.

- Must be hurt when they call you misogynist?
- Well, I ***Ala one woman whose name I do not want to mention. If I did to her what she did to me, she'd yelled, "Cocksucker, ***". So I used words like "whore" "slut" and "cunt"... I'm not proud of this lexicon, but it's better than if I wrote a song called "I know you're ***eshsya with someone else", and then snuck in with a sledgehammer to her house and smashed your head? This is called sublimation. Look, I love women. I live for them.

Sing, sing! On the damn guitar
Your fingers dance in a semicircle.
To drown in this frenzy,
My last and only friend.
Don't look at her wrist
And with the arms of her flowing silk.
I was looking at this woman happiness,
But I found perdition.
I didn't know what love is - an infection,
I didn't know what love is - the plague.
Approached and narrowed eyes
Bully brought to mind.
Sing, my friend. Bringing me back
Our previous violent early.
Let the kisses she Drugova,
Young beautiful stuff.
Oh wait. I did not swear.
Oh, wait. I did not swear.
Give you about myself, I'll play
Under the bass string.
Pouring days of my pink dome.
In heart of dreams gold scrip.
A lot of girls I felt his way through,
A lot of women in the corners pressed.
Yes! there is a bitter truth of land
I spied childish eye:
Lick in all dogs
Expiring bitch juice.
So what am I jealous of her.
So why did I hurt this.
Our life is a bed sheet Yes.
Our life - a kiss Yes in a whirlpool.
Sing, sing! The fateful span
These hands fatal trouble.
Only you know, send them to dick...
I shall not die, my friend, never.

The priest the woman is not important. It is only the ending of any relationship. Besides, the famous German humor destroyed all the priests connected with romantic flair. If grabbed her buttocks and took it in lunevka, so soon the time will come tasty to smoke and sleep.

I distinguish five types of mushrooms: boletus, chanterelles, "probably Russula", "similar to edible" and "just a fungus". All these ordinances of botany I inherited Mache. She made into the woods three big bag.

She was all love, all tenderness and caress! She is meek and shy, she did not see or know, except his love. It does not excite anybody no anger, no jealousy, no envy...

In fact, I'm afraid. These girls are so similar, and the appearance and growth, even clothes, smiles, too, like these two girls.
One of them experienced something that is not supposed to. Rumors about this had spread, she was kicked out, transferred against their will.
Perhaps this is why, living with relatives, where she was badly treated, she ran away and the more of it there is no news. Maybe she is now experiencing delancie times. And the other girl graduated from elementary school, Junior high and high school, then became a student. This girl will continue to live his normal life.
Two similar girls. One time different ways. What a gap between them? What happened to the fate of these girls? Though I don't know why, something tells me that this is not so important. Very slightly. No one paid attention to this important cause. But I can't help thinking that my life goes a completely different way. I'm afraid, and either feel relieved. It is good that these minor events did not happen to me. I was lucky that it escaped me. I'm sorry this happened to her.

and she said playing with fire?,
polosochku, polovikova:
"perhaps only the tips of the hair
remember how you touched them once."
taking the convergence as a trouble,
the scream inside could change:
"tomorrow the hairdresser will go
that will cut off even this memory".