There is art housed and closed,
It stagnates in museums
Under cold lock and key,
People come and point,
They nod and take notes.

And then there is art right here,
Open and fresh and free,
Look there, right there,
In the darkness eyes glow,
The art of the city embraces us.

Beauty drips from the tunnel wall,
Colour glistens and paint ripples,
This is art wet with the lips of passion,
I heard them say a pop star came here,
I say the street art star is always here.

If only I told you what you mean to me, it’s been three years and you still mean loads to me. 




I love the way you walk and the way you talk, you always seem to find away to make me smile. 




I want to hold you and cuddle you every morning and all night, It’s been a long time sometimes I feel like I want to cry. 




We talk for hours on the phone every day and every time we speak you tell me everything will be alright. 




I should of stopped and listened to the words that come out of your mouth, I thought I knew what to do, but by thinking that I was hurting you.




I became friends with the bottle the more I poured a sip it made me feel hollow, I slowly threw away the love we had build our trust was getting swallowed.




Our arguments always used to echo if only I told you my life was perfect because of you, so complete because you needed me like I needed you.




I’m sorry for ever hurting you.




Jidos Reality 20.10.12

"how strange it is to be anything
at all"

sometimes i look
at my skin
and wonder why we have
branches growing out of lined palms,
and wonder why
our eyeballs look like galaxies
compacted

and i realize that there is no answer
but to stop thinking about it
and just
live
for ***** sake.

I'm so filled with self loathing
I have a problem believing
Anyone could love me
And then you happened
You, with your perfect grades,
And perfect family,
Perfect everything
It makes sense you'd want a perfect girlfriend
So why'd you settle for me?
Why am I next to you?
Me, the definition of average
It doesn't add up
Why is there an us?
Us, You and I
Perfect and average?
You're not a good liar
I can tell when you do
And it seems you're not lying
When you say "I love you"
I don't know what to think anymore
Because you've told me all the things
I never told myself
And I think I needed that
More than anything

Various disorders divide the dimensional drift that separates you, from me. The telling tale of loss, regret and the missing links still bury truths. Truth is told because I’ve lost my hope. Persons call my name and shout out what they think. They make insecurities look pretty **** secure. All the while, my sweet tooth is out of sync.  And my internal combustion radiator is radiating harmful soliloquies. “I still beg of thee, he who hears my prayers. It’s been bout half a century, and I have yet to pray but give me strength where it is not.”

See?!

Anyways, feelings of retribution will come a forward day. Tantric beginnings fold under pressure and again we find our futures. Oh and by the by, the only thing who saw the crime was about eight inches tall and blind. Punch drunk and sucker punched, what will us suckers find? A fetching question for the ultra pressure.


-Gus