I hit the wall.
What if I just turn my phone off? I don't have to answer then. Will you have to answer your phone for driving people away from the baby jeebus with your clumsy attempts at forgiveness and sanctimonious-ness?
What judgement day then, the third death?
How many deaths are there? Are your sure your not talking about reincarnation?
What judgement day then, the third death?
How many deaths are there? Are your sure your not talking about reincarnation?
Anonymous
I've been dead a few times...no lights, no dudes with beards, no gates, no guy with horns. Living is where the action is.
Evan, stopping being a bitch. You're a kid, a whiney self-absorbed kid, who smokes too much ganga, whioh is only making it worse. Knock the ganga off for a while, and go outside where there are no mirrors. Do some stuff for other people. Stop thinking about yourself and how hard your life is...I bet half the foreign taxi drivers in your town are people who survived genocides and shit...harden up man. Also, quit with the glaring "security issues" crap...wearing 4 jackets doesn't make you look bigger or tougher, it makes you look like a tool, an insecure tool....enough with the toolness, your royal toolness.
Lighten up, practise smiling, get your head out of your own head, and stop the ganga for a couple of weeks...ultimately weed is a dead end man...a time killer, a trick that convinces you that all your jumbled thoughts and introspection are worth something....
pony up.
Evan, stopping being a bitch. You're a kid, a whiney self-absorbed kid, who smokes too much ganga, whioh is only making it worse. Knock the ganga off for a while, and go outside where there are no mirrors. Do some stuff for other people. Stop thinking about yourself and how hard your life is...I bet half the foreign taxi drivers in your town are people who survived genocides and shit...harden up man. Also, quit with the glaring "security issues" crap...wearing 4 jackets doesn't make you look bigger or tougher, it makes you look like a tool, an insecure tool....enough with the toolness, your royal toolness.
Lighten up, practise smiling, get your head out of your own head, and stop the ganga for a couple of weeks...ultimately weed is a dead end man...a time killer, a trick that convinces you that all your jumbled thoughts and introspection are worth something....
pony up.
Now you cross the line you may offend me but how dare you offend the begotten son! How dare you say unto him man! He was no man he is Lord he is Judge of the rightous and wicked. He deserves all praise and glory how dare you call God a man! You know not what you say my you be forgiven and be made to repent. For your words bring tears to my eyes.
Hemi, I have nothing to prove to anyone. I've dropped that much acid, smoked that much pot, shot heroin, smoked ice.. I can't even tell you what's real. Or why I was detained and medicated. I am so drug fucked I can't remember or recall anything since 2007.
And I agree, it is time for me to stop all the bullshit. I am working on that ego. Or whatever the fuck happened is dead and gone. I appreciate living more than I ever have done in my life.
And I agree, it is time for me to stop all the bullshit. I am working on that ego. Or whatever the fuck happened is dead and gone. I appreciate living more than I ever have done in my life.
Who cares man...seriously, who cares? Tonnes of people have done tonnes of shit, and they decide to survive or they don't. Whining on a poetry website forum about how fucked up you are, how deep you are, how far down the hole you are, is lame..at the very least, actually write about it.
There are plenty of counselling services around, and what you do is pick up a phone and have a go...
FYI, the guy who lives in a broken-down car in my front yard is a stolen generation aboriginal guy, in his 50's, with early stage lung cancer, who isn't exactly sure where he's been all his life or what his last name is, from all the petrol and daytura. He lives on fish he catches in the river and money he makes giving hand-jobs to gay men at the beach...that's drugged fucked, not talking up how shit it is on a fucking poetry website...get some perspective man...and lay off the ganga for a couple of weeks....seriously, harden up and make some changes if you don't like where you are at....fear is what is stopping you.
ps "I've got nothing to prove" is not proved by then trying to list more stuff, to prove it...
There are plenty of counselling services around, and what you do is pick up a phone and have a go...
FYI, the guy who lives in a broken-down car in my front yard is a stolen generation aboriginal guy, in his 50's, with early stage lung cancer, who isn't exactly sure where he's been all his life or what his last name is, from all the petrol and daytura. He lives on fish he catches in the river and money he makes giving hand-jobs to gay men at the beach...that's drugged fucked, not talking up how shit it is on a fucking poetry website...get some perspective man...and lay off the ganga for a couple of weeks....seriously, harden up and make some changes if you don't like where you are at....fear is what is stopping you.
ps "I've got nothing to prove" is not proved by then trying to list more stuff, to prove it...
first time i had grass i was in the parking lot of a church in the hood. i was young with my young friends smoking from a homemade bong. endless amounts of fun i thought. But It doesn't feel the same anymore its just a way of looking at things differently. but not an escape.
the chang though... different lover there
the chang though... different lover there
