Donâ€™t Touch Wet Paint Following a phone call
I feel comfortable, I should not feel comfortable, I feel like I have, I do not have, A bird would feel they are safe. I am not a bird, I am not a cow, Nor am I a fox, I am a feeling, right now, And I should not.
The Perfectionist You w ou ld find m y flaw s– Tiny flaw s, eventhe ones that didn’t exist– and you w ou ld pick at them . Pick at them . pick , pick , pick – You ’re a liar, you ’re a fool. You ’re a hypocrite asshole and a bad friend– Pick , Pick , Pick Every m inu te ofevery hou r of every day You w ou ld Pick ! Pu t m e dow n A nd Iloved you So Ibelieved you U ntilIthou g ht as little ofm yselfas you did. U ntilIhated m yself U ntilIbrok e free N ow I’m free A nd you ’re stillpick ing Bu t it doesn’t bother m e anym ore does it bother you ?
Men... heâ€™s folding beer mats while one ear listens to idle talk with idle friends who are going places. in a room full of people who are talking to people about other people. after a cheap booze they will go outside and queue to go inside again upstairs this time to join a queue of people waiting to score with people who look for scores. or to dance with people who dance with people on crowded floors through crowded doors. and they like it when they hear their song they like the hollow beeps and bleeps that resonate with every shape they make.
and a hot songs life is EXACTLY that of a boners... with some cosmetic help. and he knows this and he asks himself, ‘Why not go out to see something happen? to see the world changing, to see naked bodies, naked souls on stage!’ ‘cause that’s gay, and full of goths, can’t pull there laaaaaad’ ...
and the scene will still be going strong as long as people like going out to go inside and dance to turning discs they occupy.
The Stream – first encounter I sway over the stream, with one foot on a rock And study with my eyes, the dips and flows and dives. The broken branches, weathered rocks, even the weeds– all brothers of a single dream – sing to me from the stream. My head begins to bow, into a darker deep When suddenly, it catches me– riding the dips, tangled in weeds – a feather dancing in its sea! Forgotten star, betrayed to gravity. And what are we? But feathers caught within a stream.
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Icannot live w ith m ys elf Ineed s om ebody els e, Icannot live w ith m ys elf Ineed s om ebody els e Icannot live w ith m ys elf Ineed s om ebody els e. Be s om ebody, Be s om ebody. Im is s you w ith allm y heart, A llm y love. It’s hang ing inthe balance now Hang or be hang ed, I’m hang ing now , I’m w aiting now , G ET OU T! G O ON THEN ! I’llbe g one inthe m orning . L ook ing throu g h the eye ofa loop Ig ave m ys elf, Ig ave allm ys elf they don’t u nders tand, they don’t.
EoinM u rray, ag e 15 to 18 - m u rrm an.w eebly.com
Front and Back Cover:Teresa Orazio - w w w .d oppiorizzonte.com L ik e Snow :M aria M u rray- m aria-m u rray.com ID on’t:É ad aoinNí D riosceoil- ead aoin-ni-d risceoil.w eebly.com Ind ig estion:EoinM u rray& M aria M u rray The Perfectionist:M artha H eg arty- factoryg irl0 1@ g m ail.com M en...:M artha H eg arty The Stream :SiobhánCatinot - siobhancatinot.stu d entartfolio.com Salvation:Rob Carlile - carlile.rob@ g m ail.com “ IL ive Insid e You r Face”:Teresa Orazio The Fly:Rob Carlile L ayou t D esig n:M aria M u rray& EoinM u rray