A vain preacher on fifth street convinces me to play the blues on my frail blood vein mandolin. So I play away, away from the angery masses, making life form a new meaning. This mess of men turn into bitter body building. A cold Case file has been placed on you secratries desk, and with a swift wink he walks away with wavy facial hair.
-This leaves me at a boggled stance.
(Time for more inspiration)
Evil as day old milk, yet plain as waffle house pancakes. I am born again, but I was born to the weakest farmers family known to this region. Lies make the day pass with a firm grimace. My promises have cut me in half, and now no one can love this limbless freak- an offense to god almighty. My birth still forthcoming.
-A masterpiece consisting of my jumbled mind
(Time for more inspiration)
Baked. Is the cook who plans more than he cooks. I have this attention matched with agnoy that I placed in your body. I am sleep, I am pain, I am the lashing from a whip that breaks your back side flesh. I bend, I contort, I cure the meak, and sleak. A flash can't kill me, lightning won't strike me. Thats right no one has the testicular fortitude to take me and shove my head deep to the truth, and then bash my skull until I sing "Kaja Kaja Goo".
-I cried when you died, father do you see my newest daily life?
(Inspiration is just a waste of time)
I despise Build-A-Bear. Any warfare? Any rouges want battle? Find me, and together I shall quit this job; though without you all as my support I break like a small girl trapped underneath a hardplace, and one huge fucking rock. Calm is my precaution. Whats your daily lie? Perhaps you choose Brandy tonight; oh what a fight, I believe it to be grand, and instantly I shot the man in the corner. We all have time to dine with the freshly dead.
STRESSED OUT.
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1 comment:
Keep up the good work.
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