ArtoholicОт метал на парцал -кво да стане освен провал,кой видял, кой не видял,че на задния ред съм заспал.Поне не съм се п
Block 28I write sometimeswith feelingstraight from the heartin the middle of the nightwhen most people are sleeping,making love or having a fightafter a hard day,my mind is instead seekingfor something it cannot findthat bothers me constantly;must be the kind of delightone is receiving from winningbattles in their own mind.When bleeding such rhymesall the time (like I am)becomes like breathing,then for a man who is, say,reading me at 3 am,when my brain is highand my thoughts are leaking,it gotta be like cocaine,but on clear veins, no drugs,just words turning my paininto consistent lyrical gain.Still, it feels like committingc
QuestionWhere to go,whom to dareto know mein Mexicowhen the onlyGod I bow tois no poetand moreoverremains quietto the sound ofmy soul crying?
BirthdayTonight I was in a placewith no space and timeand no waste insidefull of love and friendshipand empty of crime;you've built with effortyour good heartto be around youone only feels proud,would rather be herethan a wall apartand should I point outyour choice of artis impressive, your mindworks on a high track;it makes me wanna beyour best friendeven though I know I can'tbecause I ain't that fine,plus these things take time,but let me just say it wassome extraordinary hoursinto this set of yours, sothank you for not ignoringeven though on the go andif I may, with some delay,happy birthday.
Sta.sh
