runnyfingers.deviantart.com
runnyfingers's Journal - DeviantArt
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Window.devicePixelRatio*screen.width 'x' window.devicePixelRatio*screen.height) :(screen.width 'x' screen.height) ; this.removeAttribute('onclick')" class="mi". Window.devicePixelRatio*screen.width 'x' window.devicePixelRatio*screen.height) :(screen.width 'x' screen.height) ; this.removeAttribute('onclick')". Thank you, come again. Mar 1, 2012, 10:26:43 PM. This is a blank space. Enjoy. March 1, 2012. After nearly a month of travelling. Jun 25, 2011, 4:48:33 AM. After nearly a month of travelling.
antyanand.deviantart.com
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Window.devicePixelRatio*screen.width 'x' window.devicePixelRatio*screen.height) :(screen.width 'x' screen.height) ; this.removeAttribute('onclick')" class="mi". Window.devicePixelRatio*screen.width 'x' window.devicePixelRatio*screen.height) :(screen.width 'x' screen.height) ; this.removeAttribute('onclick')". When the sun goes to sleep. The Misuse of Rhyme. I want to sleep. But I'd rather make you weep. And read my messy rhyme. Because I want to kill time. Painlessly, while I am at it. Tongue should not ...
rantingmyarseoff.blogspot.com
Me.: Winter madness.
http://rantingmyarseoff.blogspot.com/2009/12/winter-madness.html
Monday, December 7, 2009. The guitar gently mourns. Under the strain of her small. Fingers that tap-dance on it. You aren't too sure. Of how to close in. For the final attack. And then gently retreat. After scarring her insides. While she still plasters that big happy smile. And pretends that all is fine. And you sweat because you don't have time. Or the courage to stay. And puke out those words. That you do not want to say,. That you really do care. And then the draft of cold air. That take over my skin.
rantingmyarseoff.blogspot.com
Me.: October 2009
http://rantingmyarseoff.blogspot.com/2009_10_01_archive.html
And I am mourning the loss of a friend. Wednesday, October 28, 2009. Because i did not know that it would hurt me so. Because i had to say goodbye and let you go. Because angels break their wings and lose flight. Because good mornings were never exchanged when the sun was bright. Because you were ticklish and defended yourself with a poke. Because i have cried so hard that i could choke. Because my rhymes were never any good at all. Because i had to write this to cushion my fall. Monday, October 12, 2009.
rantingmyarseoff.blogspot.com
Me.: June 2010
http://rantingmyarseoff.blogspot.com/2010_06_01_archive.html
The Misuse of Rhyme. Monday, June 7, 2010. I want to sleep. But I'd rather make you weep. And read my messy rhyme. Because I want to kill time. Painlessly, while I am at it. Me back with it's best shot. While you stand there smoking pot. Laughing at my misery. Offering me a cup of tea. And tipping over the pot of milk,. Staining my expensive silk. But that is what you always do. So it wouldn't hurt if I were to. Put you through this painful ordeal. And make a sumptuous meal. Because you secretly grinned.
gizzardgulper.blogspot.com
gizzardgulper: December 2010
http://gizzardgulper.blogspot.com/2010_12_01_archive.html
Thursday, December 23, 2010. Hello world, I found all the OBO art exhibition photos. Bully for me. The room of lanterns. Hung up with coloured wool. The lanterns were made of inkblot-artwork by the workshop participants. And cutout shadow-figures, also by participants. The photography room. Again, wool to the rescue. And I had a photo exhibited! Behold my very talented friend Soumi. Doing what she does best. This is a scan, hence grainy. Tuesday, December 21, 2010. All the OBO stuff. I've had the concept...
idmichyrou.deviantart.com
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rantingmyarseoff.blogspot.com
Me.: November 2009
http://rantingmyarseoff.blogspot.com/2009_11_01_archive.html
Friday, November 20, 2009. All that is left behind. Is the faint trail of the song. That you played last night. To create a mood. That would make you feel good. About the scars that you painted. On the hands that held you so close. You, screaming like a mad man. Shrieked her lungs out. Ella Fitzgelard does to you. What fuel does to fire. And out of control. You, who wants her to. With her bleeding lips. Which you nibbled at, carelessly. To satiate that undying passion. And all that is left behind.