(no subject)
The Echoes of existence from one
town to another seem to match all the
other behavorial patterns. Strangers
and new faces, they are all like when
they run a mock.The government is a
vast network,invisible, and a so called
democracy, we all have a say and a voice.
Wilmington is for the poor, that is
why there is a punk scene, but the
punks run a monarchy.They've
chosen their sides, It's easy to tell, they
are partnered with those who fight for
their cause. Down for the cause, said
the punk singing and playing the
guitar, down for the cause.How many
sides with hope are left. The middle
class is the middle balance,
Wilmington Isn't so poor. I think about
Africa, I dont know poverty,nor do
they but we all know the fight. The girl
was pretty, I didnt catch her name,
only her gestures. She wanted to
dance, maybe escape from the
judgmental plane.She's probably well
known, her flirts must trigger
comments but not about me but about
her,they know who she is and what
she owns.I studied her, she was my
subject and I wanted to perform a
couple of experiments. I guess in all
aspects and technicallity I'm a nark,
I dont talk to the cops unless I'm
cooperating to save my petty ass from
a ticket or from getting arrested.I
dont say much to the cops.I say hello
in the most infiltrating affirmative way,
of course with a taunting smirk.
I wouldn't ever snitch on anyone
unless it is called for.I like to detect and gain
vital information to use in many
different scenarios.That is why I like
to read peoples faces and actions they
are like scrambled words in a book.
Words come from books, and books
come from thoughts.If an artist is true
to his art then shouldnt he be able to
illustrate his beauty through words?I
never met Warhol or Da Vinci, but
instead their thoughts, only the ones
they had while painting their
masterpieces. I know how they moved
and how they struck the canvas with
precise form or no form.
Concentration is key to the
development of the senses.That is
why I can't be caught slipping. The
cops are out to buff and the people
are out to judge.Whos side are we
fighting for? I can't see the movement
of a cause, let alone find one. We are
multi dimensional people, hypocrites
with contradiction, our very clothes
hide or furnish our souls.Fashion is an
indirect sense, a perspective that
adorns the physical body, if we all had
uniforms then we would all be fighting
or representing the same cause. I once
had a jacket with studs, I once
showed the movement that remains
still,only outgrown and then reborn
when all the stud wearing, boot kicking
kids and men begin their tribal
dance.The man at the top on the stage
isn't existent to the ones painting the
aggression of the movement. Maybe
someone is listening to the words that
are a constant repetition of all the
anger the so called "lower" class stimulates to free
themselves from the dead end society
and lying politicians.Maybe someone
some where will break the loop
and find the answers,then all the
paintings will be erased. And we will all
be wearing the same costume, I just dont know
what kind or if the costume will even have any physical representation.
Then I begin to think too far out, and I can't find words to explain the rest, I just know it.
dsfagdsihghdhoqsoa;iqwhoihiowqehufwhfdusudsq
town to another seem to match all the
other behavorial patterns. Strangers
and new faces, they are all like when
they run a mock.The government is a
vast network,invisible, and a so called
democracy, we all have a say and a voice.
Wilmington is for the poor, that is
why there is a punk scene, but the
punks run a monarchy.They've
chosen their sides, It's easy to tell, they
are partnered with those who fight for
their cause. Down for the cause, said
the punk singing and playing the
guitar, down for the cause.How many
sides with hope are left. The middle
class is the middle balance,
Wilmington Isn't so poor. I think about
Africa, I dont know poverty,nor do
they but we all know the fight. The girl
was pretty, I didnt catch her name,
only her gestures. She wanted to
dance, maybe escape from the
judgmental plane.She's probably well
known, her flirts must trigger
comments but not about me but about
her,they know who she is and what
she owns.I studied her, she was my
subject and I wanted to perform a
couple of experiments. I guess in all
aspects and technicallity I'm a nark,
I dont talk to the cops unless I'm
cooperating to save my petty ass from
a ticket or from getting arrested.I
dont say much to the cops.I say hello
in the most infiltrating affirmative way,
of course with a taunting smirk.
I wouldn't ever snitch on anyone
unless it is called for.I like to detect and gain
vital information to use in many
different scenarios.That is why I like
to read peoples faces and actions they
are like scrambled words in a book.
Words come from books, and books
come from thoughts.If an artist is true
to his art then shouldnt he be able to
illustrate his beauty through words?I
never met Warhol or Da Vinci, but
instead their thoughts, only the ones
they had while painting their
masterpieces. I know how they moved
and how they struck the canvas with
precise form or no form.
Concentration is key to the
development of the senses.That is
why I can't be caught slipping. The
cops are out to buff and the people
are out to judge.Whos side are we
fighting for? I can't see the movement
of a cause, let alone find one. We are
multi dimensional people, hypocrites
with contradiction, our very clothes
hide or furnish our souls.Fashion is an
indirect sense, a perspective that
adorns the physical body, if we all had
uniforms then we would all be fighting
or representing the same cause. I once
had a jacket with studs, I once
showed the movement that remains
still,only outgrown and then reborn
when all the stud wearing, boot kicking
kids and men begin their tribal
dance.The man at the top on the stage
isn't existent to the ones painting the
aggression of the movement. Maybe
someone is listening to the words that
are a constant repetition of all the
anger the so called "lower" class stimulates to free
themselves from the dead end society
and lying politicians.Maybe someone
some where will break the loop
and find the answers,then all the
paintings will be erased. And we will all
be wearing the same costume, I just dont know
what kind or if the costume will even have any physical representation.
Then I begin to think too far out, and I can't find words to explain the rest, I just know it.
dsfagdsihghdhoqsoa;iqwhoihiowqehufwhfdusudsq