what kind of fuckery....

for the moment and the mood. im single. :-(

i don't like you

for all the beach houses in idaho

wake up

as thoughts of love from the future lead way through mental canals created without purposes, questions of life after love follow closely. life after happiness beg themselves for answering.

the existing state of death has not quite manifested into...existence. whether that be a debate of philosophy or linguistics the dilemma is quite consistent...can death be?

unfortunately, i am not sure.

i'll let you know when i'm dead

i wish a nigga would...

i know a nigga will.

i remember jesus...

perfection.

on love

with matters of the heart, gender has not much if no significance at all.

i took a shit....

...it felt good.

heche en la cabeza del nino

tranquilo

miracles happen over night only in movies based on fairytales.


you may say that im a dreamer...but im not.

V1

do not what the heart asks of the soul.

i've come to the point of denial. as a unit, we have traveled down the runway to the point of critical choice.

to fly in anguish hoping a safe return in other places, a happier adventure.
to brake, stop, discontinue the idea of upward mobility and hope that the runway is able to endure such a sudden halt.

i wanna fly, but maybe i can't hold on to you.
slash...who wants to fall?

word