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Bloody_Urine
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Name: Get
State: paper
Interests: ...and as he lay gasping for air, his life rapidly slipping away like grains of sand in an hourglass, he beckoned forthright unto me, until i was mere inches away from his mouth, and with his dying breath he whispered....
Expertise: ...DON'T TRUST WHITEY.
Occupation: Artist
Message: message me
Website: visit my website
Member Since:
12/18/2002
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when the world was young, these eyes were innocent of hate, of prejudice, of pain. The eventuality of adulthood stole these things, and brought about the realities of our unjust world. But don't lose heart, our cycle is not complete. In our old age, in our golden years, we will have realized the resolute urgency of love, and all will be alright.
john
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| i'll with the mic, sick with a pen
paper, no white out eraser
pacin' fast roll a spliff from my stash
let the, inner sanctums out with a blast
butane from the lighter transpires heat
inhale, breath out, straight smog a thin sheet
i lost it all once, but its back again
adrenaline pumping, talkin sweet no saccharine
head thumping, beats blasting off the doby surround
these lyrics are born from the brotherhood of
bass, treble, and sound
eyes shut, my inner peace is in the music true
found sollice in these tracks
my life's love is a what
not a who.
I love music. 
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In a few days, i will be turning 20. And i am scared as all hell. For the last couples years, i've enjoyed the uncanny ability to dull my sense of worry and anxiety on the future. This is not an inherited trait, like my dads demonic hemmroihds. But tonight, tonight my friends i have paid my dues. In one quasi-mind bending, heart wrenching session. lets forego the dramatics, because anxiety attacks are A. what weak-minded peons experience when the pressures of their daily bullshit become too much, or B. if one was to be emotionally unstable to the point of it being a disease. Unfortunately, i qualify for neither benign attributes.
But i will say this. The future is hard to determine. It wavers on the precarious tip of every action, every failure, success, every misstep we make. What we do is spearhead the general direction our future turns in and pray the shit does not hit the fan, which it so often does. Karma can kiss my ass. Their is absolutely no reason in this universe; and i say this with the most blasphemous intent possible. Religion? Self help? Whatever it takes for you to be better, to feel good. Because in the end, it all boils down to feeling good; do you feel good where are? Do you feel good about how your living? That to me, is the only reason people sacrifice their time and energy. For the primal need to just fucking feel good about themselves.
a close friend once told me that all people are either creators or destroyers. for the past 20 years, i have not only been a destroyer, i was the fucking Armageddon. I mean, the A-bomb or chernobyl could not touch me. My intent is to become a creator. Or atleast live vicariously through other creators. Or at the very least, limit how much time i waste.
And if all else fails, atleast i dont have hemmorhoids.
Yet.
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| - Passing Me By Wait, no, i did not really pursue my little princess with persistance;
And I was so low-key that she was unaware of my existance
From a distance I desired, secretly admired her;
Wired her a letter to get her, and it went:
My dear, my dear, my dear, you do not know me but I know you very well
Now let me tell you about the feelings I have for you
When I try, or make some sort of attempt, I symp
Damn I wish I wasn't such a wimp!
'Cause then I would let you know that I love you so
And if I was your man then I would be true
The only lying I would do is in the bed with you
Then I signed sincerely the one who loves you dearly, PS love me tender
The letter came back three days later: Return to Sender
...Damn.
 This was a good movie. mmm yummy.
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