Tuesday, March 21, 2006



she wakes on a traffic
she walks down cold halls
she sat facing a cube
she does it day in day out
she falls asleep on a traffic
filled with silent dreams
she walks home with a vaccum mind
and drowns it with blood water
she enters a room with a made up view
and awaits the darkness and rain
hope she finds pleasure in pain

she wakes on a rooftop and things began to stir
she walks down a yellow brick road
she lies on a field of white roses
she does it day in day out
she falls asleep with butterflies
filled with champagne dreams
she walks home with a jar of glee
and feed it with dew
she enters a room full of bloom
and awaits the moon to turn soon

love,sanchia march 20th 2006

1 comment:

hydroxycumbromidium said...

She filled herself with Lolita Lempicka’s fragrance, walking towards surrounded houses, building and dormitories.
She takes a leap at 24-Seven convenience store’s, lower ground, while buying Cherry-popped bubble gum.
She hates the smell of Cinnamon collided with Cumquats and bit mixed of Lime skins.
She’s returning the knife that’s been stabbed on her back to Grenadine beauty parlor.
She wants to do that pony-do.
Craving for her beaded Tiara from her own deep sea.
I’m not a Clove, she whispered.
I’m not living in some warehouse at Rovaniemi train station, she replied.
Not fancy for diabolical dual of slavnostik in a Scottish tale of the lost forest and hanky panky, she continued.
She was having Bambi.
Even though, her mom not so easy letting her dreams about it.
It was not an easy and ease stories for you my dear, she thoughts hardly.
She saw a small and tiny cracked exposed from a Red Diablo Nissan Carrera and a Yellow-mellow skin covering wheels.
A man with Galliano’s tux comes out and his misuse comes out with Pink-slip Satin, Gold high heel stiletto and Bluish Cashmere.
She smiled and felt joy.
It shall going to be a very deep and gorgeous Sun, she’s through.
This day joy, tomorrow glad and the next day happy as well with sorrow, sad and moody like the days. She laughed.
She said to her Mom, “rejoiced Mom, there’s no such thing as good, bad and worse. Only us that think its there”.
“Well dear love, ad maiorem dei gloriam, ad multos annos”. Her moms speaks softly then smile.

(Ms. Lauretta and Mrs. Defondue, act 16, taken from “My beloved Hippopotamus-Po had been shoot” by Hubert Frangway, 1935)