morning is mocking me.

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Vestibulum porttitor, tellus ut sagittis consectetur, nisl eros porttitor lorem, id vehicula justo velit eget felis. Curabitur laoreet dolor at nibh facilisis interdum. Cras tempor urna ut ligula semper rutrum. Duis ac ultricies purus. Maecenas venenatis mi vulputate augue vehicula in blandit lacus dignissim. Morbi nunc leo, tempor adipiscing fermentum eget, consectetur eu leo. Donec viverra libero vitae risus iaculis in pharetra lectus gravida. Fusce vulputate hendrerit metus, at placerat mi tempus et. Suspendisse facilisis orci eget augue convallis et euismod elit convallis. Mauris volutpat, dui id ornare euismod, urna sem tincidunt ligula, in porta augue libero at tellus. Proin ultricies pretium tempor. Suspendisse eleifend odio id magna porttitor et molestie ipsum semper.

Integer volutpat tincidunt feugiat. Morbi volutpat ante id massa bibendum vel ultricies ipsum elementum. Curabitur nec tellus ut nisl pulvinar laoreet. Integer sit amet leo ut urna tincidunt vulputate at quis dolor. .

Bold Italic Strike Underline
Link user community
( Blah )



This is a live preview journal for ~lobelia.

He wants to die in a lake in Geneva, the mountains can cover the shape of his nose.
He wants to die where nobody can see him but the beauty of his death
will carry on so I dont believe him.


He greets me with kisses when good days deceive him and sometimes with scorn and sometimes I believe him.
And sometimes I'm convinced my friends think I am crazy, get scared and call him but he's usually hazy.

By one in the morning day is not ended, by two he is scared and sleep is no friend, and by four he will drink but cannot feel it, sleep will not come because sleep does not will it and I dont believe him.
Morning is mocking me.

I'll wander the streets avoiding them eats until the ring on my finger slips to the ground.
A gift to the gutter, a gift to the city the veins of which have broken me down.
And I dont believe him, morning is mocking me.