My one follower may be able to support me?

I’m making a short film for Cannes and need 2,500 euros.

I’ve been directing and acting for years but am penniless

Please donate money, share with your friends and ask them to do the same

http://www.sponsume.com/project/colour-short-film-cannes-2013

Intrepid thoughts for the cautious traveller,
Lightyears in space and you can’t unravel her,
Where has the noise gone?
It filled your life.
Intrusive thoughts about ending her life.

Intrepid thoughts for the dangerous traveller,
The days go by and you feel happier,
The weeks go by and you can laugh with her,

Intrepid thoughts again.

…and she looked at me with that cold stare she gave when she wanted THE answer and not the lies a person tells when they’re trapped.

“What was the problem? Why did you always plan to meet me and then never show? What excuse do you have?”

I looked into those unforgiving eyes that I had seen for such a short time, yet knew so well. I took a moment and asked,

“You want to know…? The same thing happened that happens every time.”

“Yes? And what’s that?”

“Simple, I fell in love.”

There’s no worse feeling then knowing you have greatness to achieve but being chained by demons so you may never realise it.

If my Emeteophobia isn’t cured soon, I’m going to go fucking insane.

Acting lessons and acting agency, hello future.

I’ve seen so little,
heard only a whisper,
Felt the mundane,
lived always the same,

My dreams are long,
My eyesight is short,
I have no march song,
I have no battle won or fought.

I’m a ghost to her,
She’s so real to me,
She likes the small talk,
I give it to try and see.

How is she,
This flower of streets?
This logical pessimist,
This illogical beast.

She’s is not brutal,
Graceful and free,
Quick with her tongue,
Too fast for me.

She may read my words,
For that I care not,
I don’t have high hopes,
I’ve left that old plot.

I’m content to compose,
To read, think and write,
Her words of sorrow,
Cast such dark a light.