Don't Believe The Hype

It's amazing what a few words can do. The pen IS mightier than the sword [My Lord]. To be totally honest, I can't be totally honest. Honestly :)
I think the universe heard me. Decided to give me a taste of lust. Now I'm starved and wondering what the next move is. Nevermind, I know. Ha. This blog is my state of mind. So. No pardon needed. Eat it.
Black and white photographs.
Wudup, Soul Sistas. Lust is in the air. I can cut oxygen with my tongue.
Try me.
Bite me.
Sweets are delicious. Dimples Cupcakes have inspired me to be fuckin' ATOMIC. So, Hey!....ha.
I wish your perspective of me looked like a Renoir painting. Smeared only after I break your heart. There's still beauty.
Every day....work becomes more and more dull. So. I lose myself in instrumentals and m-boxes. Box up, chump.

Dude's loco.

Oh so.

A Stroke of Genius

So. I need to write. As of right now, the new body of music will be called: Lonely Season. Javier Loredo will be doing the art. This is the picture I have in my head. I'm in search of a muse. A woman to lie in bed and count freckles with. I've decided to let go. So. If the music is overly emotional. So be it. Women. Always there. Excuse the short sentences. Vague, I know. But, this is meant for venting, is it not? My job is to leave enough work behind to be remembered by. Lie with me...you'll acquire immortality. I promise. Deadly sins. I'm cool with it if you are. I want to make love to an artist while a symphony plays to our movement. Movement...singular. We'll move as one.

This should suffice today. Good and Evil are always at war. I'll fuck Ayn Rand 'till she loves me. I'm a dreamer. Accept it. Ideal death scenario? Lungs filled with ink. So that you can breath me....permanently.

love.