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Secret Literary Diary of Malte
This is literary diary of bizzare person from Europe - now living in L.A
Night and everythang
Published on March 25, 2006 By
Secret Literary Diary of Malte
In
Home & Family
Yes,yes, yes. Everything is changing face. Definite ending of pretending. For what. For whom. I'm growing, and don't care in which direction,in my direction.Only this is important and worth something, in my direction,doesn't matter, good or bad. Mine, mine.
You can talk shit to me, whatever you want, you can restrain me, mentally, economically, emotionally, physically.I DON't care.
Your power is over.Who are you.Who are you, I ask you, who are you. I have my soul, my brain, my will, myself. Just like you have all this stuff.You taught me:your soul, your mind, your will, your rigths are better, are legal, not mine. I was illegal. I was illegal. I was illegal. I BELIEVED that. I really believed that. I - vermin, devil, useless piece of trash, eternal destroyer of everything what was good in the word, eternal destroyer of you, worthless shit. You : the statue of perfection, sinless and guiltless- you killed me.You were trying to do it. To commit saint murder in white gloves.Innocent pattern of pure, reflection of God. Now, the roach is coming back to life.What are you going to do???What are you going to do.
He is far away. He is in Syberia covered by snow. I can't reach him. I' m dying .
My love- you know, if there is no you is like there was nobody.
Can't hardly believe you still exist somewhere, still breathing, still walking, still thinking.
I need your voice, I need your hair, I need everything. I'm a part of you , you said,and I am. Can't imagine I will see you again, I know it's trivial, but I can't use bigger words. Because this is stronger than me, this is greatest than me, I can only submit myself and wait.
Please, don't kill me, not you, at least not you.Hear me.Can't all be that artificial.Can be?
Missing you misty
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