| it takes guts and a gun, just like in bud dwyer’s lil' surprise.
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| a defect, no one’ll ever see it coming.
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| I’m indulging myself in a strategic advance, orchestrated by the enemy.
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| it dwells deep, yet grows strong, within…
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| (Am I working against myself? well am I?)
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| everything dreadful happening, imagine how I should feel,
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| when realizing that it was planned,
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| from a beginning that I don’t even recall,
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| you might call this a tragedy,
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| seems more to me like simple standard habits.
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| wishing to be finally saved,
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| waiting for something/someone that would order me to follow
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| a certain purpose with both convictions and deviations.
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| if you’d only knew how… I’m tired of your paintings.
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| your bold landscapes sucks and have ceased to amaze me long ago.
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| be a pal and let me add a fantasy of mine, abstraction.
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| of scarlet and red pure… so pure.
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| are there any written rules related to simplicity (of actions, of thoughts…)
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| I guess not.
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| so how come your judging?
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| you won’t the day that it will end,
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| drenched in vital fluids (.357)
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| as you are forced to witness the spontaneity of the events.
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| and I won’t be a bother no more? |