The sun finally beats on my brow, yet I can find nothing meaningful with the purpose of the rays other then feeding crops of hot pepper plants. It will soon be time to feast on roast beast, cooked over a fire that is of man mined gases. Perhaps knowing my meal was once alive will lend me a helping hand in uplifting my spirit. A spirit which lays either idle or in a negative creep, just because. Just because I'm alive. This gives me my gifts of artistic creativity. If you can call throwing paint at a canvas for three hours, then knocking it down, and at last standing over it whilst crying and masturbating simultaneously artistic creativity.
I am more of a musician anyways.
A musician anyways.
A musician similar and inferior to the great bassist Gerard Smith of T.V. On The Radio, who passed away on the 20th of this month, something I did not know until now. A shy man, a kick ass man, a man who will be missed.
~Xavier R.
I am more of a musician anyways.
A musician anyways.
A musician similar and inferior to the great bassist Gerard Smith of T.V. On The Radio, who passed away on the 20th of this month, something I did not know until now. A shy man, a kick ass man, a man who will be missed.
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