my favorite part was working with dissonance

first of all fuck rhyming... cause its for cornballs that try to get children to touch their privates.

clear-headed.

what the fuck was that?

something like a past-time.

something like a trap.

the only way to be clear... to be here.

in sight and mind defined.

is through the memory of time spent...

unique but not designed.


that's where it stops. the pressure is still here. nothing has changed. it is like an idiot child flailing... off their meds. mommy smoked some pot with you all in her belly when she went to see the dead.

in other words i know nothing. but i think i understand one or two things. i think that i understand enough to ride the momentum properly. faulty notions all around. lash back with sarcasm... make sure that all your bases are covered.

just how i work it. i have some nice body curves.

lust wins.