it takes guts and a gun, just like in bud dwyer's lil' surprise
a defect, no one'll ever see it coming
I'm indulging myself in a strategic advance, orchestrated by the enemy
it dwells deep, yet grows strong, within
(Am I working against myself? well am I?)
everything dreadful happening, imagine how I should feel,
when realizing that it was planned,
from a beginning that I don't even recall,
you might call this a tragedy,
seems more to me like simple standard habits
wishing to be finally saved,
waiting for something/someone that would order me to follow
a certain purpose with both convictions and deviations
if you'd only knew how I'm tired of your paintings
your bold landscapes sucks and have ceased to amaze me long ago
be a pal and let me add a fantasy of mine, abstraction
of scarlet and red pure so pure
are there any written rules related to simplicity (of actions, of thoughts)
I guess not
so how come your judging?
you won't the day that it will end,
drenched in vital fluids (357)
as you are forced to witness the spontaneity of the events
and I won't be a bother no more?