what ever...

started here....where you can't help this feeling of lost..its more than imagination..it's more like poverty of heart...while me thinking of why .....lots of whys ...are swimming in my hopeless head,,,maybe someone had to catch me a rebel ...be he the man...be he the woman..it doesnt matter.,,only fear could turn me into a rebel that. i don't wanna be...

down by bed surrounded with all the red sheets and blankets ...but it literary seems useless,,,hopeless,,,and imposible...to feel or even to think about these red sheets ,,,while getting back those awkward memories of summer and love..of resolution and freedom,,,then i though ,, i maight be way far from what i wished to be...listed in the heart of my magical poverty of emotions...and then it all turns into ..pla pla pla... whatever...