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..::Hurt::..

"People bring joy into this room. Some by entering, some by leaving"

11.3.07

FIND ...::Byrne::...

Namás la finta, dicen por ahí.

I'm no glad
at all.
Be

ye all
glad
tonite for me.

I'm glad I'm a mess
I'm glad you don't mind
I'm glad you're better than me
I'm glad that I changed
I'm glad I'm not nice
I'm glad it's the way, it must be

a las 17:11

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No longer mourn for me when I am dead
Then you shall hear the surly sullen bell
Give warning to the world that I am fled
From this vile world, with vilest worms to dwell:
Nay, if you read this line, remember not
The hand that writ it; for I love you so
That I in your sweet thoughts would be forgot
If thinking on me then should make you woe.
O, if, I say, you look upon this verse
When I perhaps compounded am with clay,
Do not so much as my poor name rehearse.
But let your love even with my life decay,
Lest the wise world should look into your moan
And mock you with me after I am gone.

La hora