still a dreaming of flats with tangled haired garcon with stars imprinted in his soul and neck, the night still fresh and dripping and her voice so calm and stable when she said she was no longer with the boy with perfect lips and dirty blonde wisps. Wine by the pool and the night sky maybe shining and soaking up potentials of another world wrapped in gold. dreams and mid morning reves of boy brune haunt me with shame and whispers of so called amour amour amour. even if he is past gone and my heart stumming different strings and stings he will never now comprehend, he still toils on my mind. searching for big moon eyes (peut-etre) and maybe paris will never come soon enough, and my restless heart telling me to go and never ever return.
vin vin vin. a taste of maybes and so so's. no johnny no goods but this is alright for now
VODKA princesse ever to resurface. la magie, alors alors alors.

come.
comme feburary.
a new town now swelling with essence.
oh dear how i can not wait any longer.