donate to ya boy

Monday, September 10, 2012

I wanted to write about life today...Better yet I wanted it to put it in a way that wasn't painful...tie all my words to little weather balloons and let them dangle in the troposphere. In the city of angles there's more then fear to geometric patterns...a taste of the stars lips,a quivering question to a chatter box with none of the answers...only anti matter...such a strain on your bladder. I clammer for facts,batter and ram like I was on the verge of emotional collapse...this very well could have been a catastrophe...but I'm off topic...see the logic to my madness is that i'm a madman for dividends and its a blast for me to spin sentences is one of my many gifts. This is so seems like im only interested in big business and its inner workings...not for any monetary figures...simply because its an entity worth infiltrating in a non traditional scheme...reams of paper,40 blank shirts and a days worth of smoke will get me up and over the cross road//railroad///hell hole,no more is reality,biting the flesh off of the entire front side of me...the guiding force that ive needed...the reason I constantly eat BUT AM SO HUNGRY. I need your lunch money,ill trade you collectibles for it,while smelling like the reminisce of cannibus...and as your brain cease and desists...deceit with my lips as I grimace and my spit is filled with grimy and witty its slimy and gritty...shit...back to the city to do my bidding...taking bid,placing bets on how far Ill retrospect it was shit on how far it is...from a single notion of claw marks across a grey lense...a sawtooth to put it with...she saw sewed up lips with candle sticks behind them...illuminating every thing shed think...oh she was beautiful that way...until her brain decimated...and im partly to introduce death to children they take it as a game...i took it as a sentence...i wanted to never see anyone again...i wanted to bite off my fingerprints and let the blood mix with the water of my bathtub as I laid naked staring at the wall...this was my time to give in...just like it was his...oh justin...but now its years later after this...and the scars on my finger tips are just as visible...and I still have residual visuals of times I can barely recollect..and i still have the pains in the morning that will never let me forget...the reason I can barely put on weight...barely keep food down...oh but its all the same...were just washing the dust our bodys and going at it anxiety tears threw my eyelids and forces smiles but I know what is mine...what I deserve...what I LIKE. that creeping feeling up your spine that lets you know your god,i paid an old asian broad 30 dollars for an oriental massage...she used all her body weight and still couldent settle the grudge...fudge...back like a relapse...ol doc bonnies up to his hash and stash habits...eclectic son of a bitch on a money making seems like my reign is only days away.

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