It takes guts and a gun, just like in bud dwyer's lil' surprise. a defect, no one'll ever see it coming. I'm indulging myself in a strategic advance

Orchestrated by the enemy. it dwells deep, yet grows strong, within...

(Am I working against myself? Well, am I?)

Everything dreadful happening, imagine how I should feel, when realizing that it was planned, from a

beginning that I don't even recall, you might call this a tragedy, seems more to me like simple standard habits. wishing to be finally saved, waiting for

something/someone that would order me to follow a certain purpose with both convictions & deviations. if you'd only knew how... I'm tired of your

paintings. your bold landscapes suck and have ceased to amaze me long ago. be a pal and let me add a fantasy of mine, abstraction. of scarlet and red

pure... so pure. are there any written rules related to simplicity (of actions, of thoughts...) I guess not. so how come your judging? you won't the day

that it will end, drenched in vital fluids (.357) as you are forced to witness the spontaneity of the events. and I won't be a bother no more.