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To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow, Creeps in this petty pace from day to day, To the last syllable of recorded time; And all our yesterdays have lighted fools The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle! Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player, That struts and frets his hour upon the stage, And then is heard no more. It is a tale Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, Signifying nothing. -The Worthily Beloved William Shakespeare

Wednesday, April 7, 2010

Funny Love Tanka

Hysterical his discrepancy as pursuing balance does he try,
Eyes profuse with tenseness; his frustration does in his skin cry.
As he clings to his somber mentality I rejoice
I anticipate enthusiastically his approaching choice
To in his mind myself I know he shall retrace.
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1 comment:

  1. pieceofpieApril 7, 2010 at 5:27 PM

    oh man he's just trying to tell you how much he does think of you or doesn't make it at all??!! erotic engine

    ReplyDelete

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