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Some days are so terrible that you don't want to go to sleep. You keep telling yourself, a single day can't truly be this bad. Something nice is bound to happen. You keep telling yourself that if you refuse to sleep then the day won't. The hours and the minutes and the seconds can go fuck off. But things never work out that way. It's never goodnight and never goodbye. It's just one of those days.

When you know what you want is just there? Right there. Over there, behind that door. Like the last level of a particularly complicated PC Game. When you know the sword of light that will kill the orcs and free the elves is right there to be swished around, that is when the pause button seems the nicest and the shiniest. But life doesn't work that way. It just doesn't. I am waiting, waiting for someone to find the pause button. Till then I can either stay in one place, go back or maybe open the door.
Ugh! This sucks...

I would swim through a million ocean of tears just to get to you. I would probably even drink a couple of gallons of the same if you asked me to. One day we will steal a ship, a nice old mottled one, paint it, like we painted your room, and then sail for a million years. Try talking to Dolphins and reading Dickens on Stormy Nights. Maybe we could snuggle and sleep on the boring ones and listen to blues. I could cook pasta for me and you could scold me when I get hurt. I could start a newspaper for the seagulls and you could join a rival online organization run by money minded sharks. But most importantly we could be together and play hopscotch and sleep and live and die.

What say?

What are words when the moonlight sonata fills your mind with sheer bliss. What are thoughts when they seem to crumble away to make room for this immense force. As each notes rips through my body, fire grips my veins and love blinds me.

The Moonlight Sonata flows through me, and I give myself to it. If there is a god, this is it.

Curl it around your tiny finger. Like a finger shoved impertinently through a smoke ring. Type slowly chewing each syllable, playing around with it in your mouth. One goes pop, the other a blatant blip. Slow motion dreams, huge chunks of them. We will swim through them and bleed a drop or two as our own personal version of a cheap romance.

But what did the joker say to thief?

Why is it even important? Maybe he talked about his own life, as he saw it. Painted in the colorless hues of incandescent confusion. His bloodshot eyes in perfect harmony with the laughter inducing musical nose. His plastic smile, the only fixed centre in a life that crumbled away life monumental ant hills in the rain.

Maybe he talked about his Bess? Bess, the landlords black-eyed, black-haired daughter. Blip Drip. Blood Dlood. Dead on the Bed. Boom Boom. Bang Bang. Now gone. Shattered like a monumental anthill in the rain.

No reason to get excited.
Life is but a joke.
Curl it around your tiny finger.

The speedometer complains furiously. Trees whiz past quite alarmingly. The world goes by. And you pull the handbrake. The car spins happily. The Epitaph of your dream with a crazy smile in your eyes. Bye Bye. You said.

I found this online. Shakespeare quotes: Reinterpreted. Rolling like a drill now are we shakho-kabi?

Self-love, my liege, is not so vile a sin, as self-neglecting.
Translation: We should masturbate more.

The weakest kind of fruit drops earliest to the ground.
Translation: Only fight sissies.

Great floods have flown from simple sources.
Translation: Never have sex with your girlfriend during her period.

The first thing we do, let's kill all the lawyers.
Translation: Let's kill all the lawyers. Really.

Be to yourself as you would to your friend.
Translation: It's OK to sleep with your sister because your friend sure would.

Is the jay more precious than the lark because his feathers are more beautiful?
Translation: Good-looking strippers get bigger tips.

Have patience, and endure.
Translation: Use one of those numbing creams if you have to. Or try wearing five condoms at once.

I can express no kinder sign of love than this kind kiss.
Translation: First base is better than striking out altogether.

Men at some time are masters of their fate.
Translation: Get married and you're screwed.

They that thrive well take counsel of their friends.
Translation: If your drinking buddies say she's really a man, listen to them.

That man that hath a tongue, I say, is no man, if with his tongue he cannot win a woman.
Translation: If you're desperate to impress her, you can always resort to oral sex.

Heaven hath a hand in these events.
Translation: How else would you explain that Pamela Anderson video?

O, flatter me, for love delights in praises.
Translation: Honesty isn't necessarily the best policy when it comes to penis size.

The course of true love never did run smooth.
Translation: When dumping someone, always wear a protective cup.

I'll note you in my book of memory.
Translation: Don't expect me to call the day after.

Alas, poor world, what treasure hast thou lost.
Translation: Lap dances have actually been outlawed in some parts of the country.

Love's gentle spring doth always fresh remain.
Translation: With a little help from our friends at Massengill, that is.

Praising what is lost, makes the remembrance dear.
Translation: When you're telling your buddies about your conquests, exaggerate. A lot.

'Tis better to be brief than tedious.
Translation: Nooners rock.

My endeavors have ever come too short of my desires.
Translation: You've never had twins and you never will. Get over it.