Store
Welcome! to my sweet store! Buy my stuff!
View Store
My Poetry
Marketing Prison.
Soaring like a free bird, picking up speed, is where I want to be, where you want to be.
Not always will you accomplish it, but you can at least say you tried. Living in the Syndicate’s world, they call it freedom, but I think it is marketing prison. Yearning to fly free, tear up the ads and soar high in the sky. Live in the free land, in the clouds. Make it all go away. Makes it all happy. Leave it out of the happy story, will never happen. Where will it all go? Please tell me. Soaring high, without being shot down. Ever afraid of not making it, not flying with the rest.
Train of Thought.
I got off my train of thought and laid my head down in a field of dreams and forgot all my misery and woes of life. Under a tree, I left it all. Wandered in the never, in a circle, waiting for it all to come through together. Waiting for it to register in my mind, but not in my soul. I know it will all fall through, like a hole in dimensions. Like a glitch in the world of life. No glitches, no back doors, no mini-games in life. You are born, you live, and you die. For some it is sooner than other. For some, they believe that they never die, for they are the first ones to go. I am not saying that I am atheist, but heaven probably isn’t all that good. You spend an eternity in one place, doing nothing. No living, No breathing, No love.
Talks
View All Comments
i wuv u