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