now there's nothing left to do, but die.

she's got that kind of sigourney weaver beautiful, back when she was an amazonian fox.
dancer's legs and a disarming smile.
all tied together by the dreams of a james cameron. gotta love Aliens. but if it wasn't for ridley scott and dan o'bannon being the geniuses they were. it never would've happened.

90 days of sweat and dirt feels like one moment when you've got nothing left.

we used to be real, right? not just fictitious dancers gliding alone in the dark?
maybe you were sent back from the future to save me.
i'm pretty sure i'm in love with you.

liberating...ain’t it?

it's got that sound that really likes to put you to sleep. but i don't think there's gonna be much sleep around here, it's too dull to fall and has too much energy to do much. but that's the way it is, i guess. unexplainable and palpable, if that makes sense.
so i avoid it all as much as i can, while indulging in it as often as i like.
(now, figure that out if you can)