It’s whatever I want. That’s it.
Wow. Now I know the source. Containing it…no…no more.
No more questions either.
Peace, at last.
I notice when I’m blunted I give less of a fuck, most of you would think that’s troublin cause you scared to be free, I smoke a lot and it gives me what I need, sedation of my ego while my mind takes a vacation, peace.
This has got to be my internet home base. Where I communicate to the world about my business ventures, new work, etc. I’ve got to have my own website do I not? I have to do this correctly, it’s just getting over this fear that I am doing something wrong. How can I fix things? How can I establish this company?
I’m a fatalist.
This new picture I posted is really impersonal but I chose it for political reasons. It reflects one dimension of me.
I’d like to say I am a little distressed.
You might ask why.
I might say because of some things like being afraid of not getting what I want.
And you might say fuck what you want.
I’ll think about it.
Then I’ll go back to what I want.
I am an insane artist.
I am many things.
I am one with the world.
I am high and fried.
The world thinks I am who I am not.
It is in need of an icon.
What happened to the John Lennons, the Martin Luther Kings and the Malcolm X’s?
All shot dead but times are different and the light is pouring through.
The bells of freedom are ringing again.
Have faith in God.
Do not let the doubts of others creep into your mind.
Trust in your heart.
if we don’t suffer, we don’t need God,
this pain is like an inch away from being worse,
why God, must I ache,
can I not reach high any longer?
Do I pour my heart and say,
The things which on my mind,
Do not unwind and just decay,
Day by day.
Every moment passing,
A thought is caged into my heart’s
caverns, wherein blood boils,
not as freely as it should,
hot and bubbly, burning hell,
anger at its finest, why does it hide?
Can I not shout aloud and curse the world,
if this is art I’m free!
I’m free to curse anybody.
This is art I’m free. This is art I’m free.
Music is your enemy, give me a pen,
I will write a eulogy devoted to one of them,
the cowards who devoured my heart,
spat on my shoes and acted confused,
when little did they know, a gangster appeared,
fingers pointed at you he said,
what you gonna say now bitch?
the tides have turned on you.
Often we become weak, then strong,
then weak, then strong again.
Will it ever end?
Follow your heart.
“The heart has its reasons which reason knows nothing of.” – Blaise Pascal