Posted by: spickering | December 24, 2006

fragmenta poetica

Everything that is outside looking in
Is like the caricature of a dream.
But it’s not the real thing.
You know, you look at art sometimes,
And it seems like it is looking into a Fairy Tale,
The accenuation of the colors, the beauty.
You think – I wouldn’t mind being
That guy’s friend, or her lover, everyone has a heroic look

I was sort of made to feel ashamed of the things that I liked

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