I guess I did't digest what they tried to feed me. Alas the times have separated me from dear friends or foes and faux or dear possibilities... The scars are in the memories no one else cares about now, so I motivate Dolo- how I came and took place, how Richard and Mary left and how I will leave when it's time.. what I always leave you with when I'm no longer physical... My body's illustrations have constantly changed and now when the pressure wraps my hips the pictures I make have to move, animating my original show so even through quicksand I Stroke.. Driving myself to Circumsize the circumstance I somehow end up losing what I paid for and stutter on e- exhaling exceeded evil efforts emptying every energy endangering episode ever exzhibiting expendable elements...
I'm art in my crafts that keep my breath regular, even in the shotguns I give and recieve...I look up from the pit this stage is built in as I perform, and I see the audience looking down on me: vexed, intrigued, and seduced by my distorted reality. I smiled at what I did to them when I took my final bow...and offered my possible fame which was promptly broken into possible 15's for whoever was fast and needy enough of the possibility. While they continue to be taken by glitters, I wonder what you explore in the dark corners of your mind... how you stay unaffected and why you don't care like you do, because the life you don't live will affect you too...