Sunday, August 16, 2009


Writing is a form a rhyme that dictates your mind into well orchestrated genocide.

This is love, you and I.

Tired of, but wired to, the music in which I inspire to...base my blue print...this is blueness in a green masterpiece. Dad's deceased...out of his well being and victim of the all seeing.

Good gawd. This is some frustrating shit. Might cut off an ear. Maybe it will inspire me.

I'm Van Gone.