Perhaps I’m addicted to the darkside within my internal landscape, display in false veil of happiness, though it’s the poverty that got us trading places, now there’s nothing but hate in bitter harsh terrain, with no healing hands that guide us to Zen and a moment of peace. I don’t hang around much, this grind got me out of touch. In quiet times got me thinking of what we could of been, I fucked around and got attached to you, the only thing I did good was write poetry, because it’s the only thing that you noticing & settled on self-made false conceptions of anything else in regards to me, it brings violent threads of emotions inside my private life that those conceptions seem right to you. With no hope in the future, there's bitterness when I speak, maybe I’m too ignorant that won’t change from now until the end of time. For I pray for my soul to rest & anything to come down & take me away. I’m feeling used, still I am consumed by you, all this time is passing, it hurts my soul everytime I’m reminded of you, I hate myself for allowing my heart to be attached to yours, I hate that I want you, I’ll never be him, I see you when you’re not around, still got images of us of times when you don’t remember, anyone can break your heart, I’ve grown tired of humanity, but never of you, I have my own feelings & love, but you never made an effort to be apart, there was alarms in my life, but I continued, now everything is a fucking mix & the hate inside is taking over my entire being. Everyone I do right by, ends up doing me wrong. I have Muse, meet Deities in my life, travelled with gypsies, meditated to Zen, smoked ancient Heavenly, meet Mystics & talked philosophy, I went from junkie in homelessness to writing poetry & fiction, never finished school & made my own movies, been to Europe & went to lodge with royalty & instead all my memories are filled with you. For the only thing I can give my right hand to is yours. All I got is hate, no I don’t owe you, no I don’t know you, I lay back with this bag of magic dust, gives me the strength to deal with bizarre shit in my mind, for I have returned back to evil, just to destroy, I have grown sick & tired, stop with the thinking, Demons are my friends & have meet in this life before death. Becoming so hateful I can glare & burn you into Hell where Baphomet lives. Jealousy is love & hate, my rare breed can have you bleeding in vain, your future is in the same place as you are now, besides the despair is more intense, no love lost, no love found. Oh fate in life, don’t hurt me no more, I have given up, on the silence given to me, while I still worry, is this hell? I married to myself, devoted to myself. Open Bibles burn. Anton Lavey is my hero. Grinding pills into dust, than I volunteer at the nursing home. I wake up with the intentions to spread the Devil’s message, after all, strapped to me like a bomb, willing to live is the willingness to commit suicide, I’ve meet him in person, even without believing, before the act of dying. You know why my hand is numb? My sister sucked me off & I didn’t cum. Put it back Sisqo, you know where it belongs, fuck your love songs. Than I smacked my sister for speaking shit, she said I couldn’t write poetry, so-what she’s handicap. I’m here to save generations of babies. Because in a Biblical sense, I am a prostitute witch. Judas is my virtue & forgiven me. Hey bitch, I fucking hate you. I’ll rape you before killing you, than film afterwards of sloppy seconds, I know some Serbs that will finance my retirement for that tape. Next time you see an Outlaw, pay him respect or get shell-checked. I’m taking back what belongs to me, the only way you’ll see me again, is by Machiavelli. My life is mine & is too Holy for another. It is way I’m so closed up. Screams of the Musing world. Denied, cause I’m too much for you, never to think that you’re too small for me. Sell my your soul & I’ll kill in your fucking sleep.