"psychics" poems
When all contribute,
the Group benefits;
when some take extra,
the Group suffers.
If everyone pulled their weight
(whatever the **** that means)
than anything extra pulled
would be pure progress,
would it not?
It would, at least,
be possible by any
to pull whatever extra
they felt was necessary.
I don't know.
The logic seems sound.
This sounded better in my head,
but, this way, even the non-psychics
can get in on the thought!
Mar 7, 2014
Mar 7, 2014 at 6:55 AM UTC
The demon scratches me
I bite him back
The demon pushes me
I spit in his face with a smack
The demon taunts me
I calleth him out by name
They hate their name called
Don't wanna be recognized for the flame
The demon shows false affections
I giveth him hate
The demons a smiler as he latches to me
I'll kick him to hells gate
The demons find me downtimes
Though with God I shalt win
Demons love misery
To seeith one in sin
Demons are smelly
Like all the dump trucks on the earth
Times ten
Demons haveth enemies
They hate even their own kind
They haveth none kin
Demons haveth a date
With Satan in the fire
They'll turn thou on with lust
For thou they do admire
Demons hast hurt me
They've tried to bring me to mine death
Soo many health issues
I know tis not me
Them
The demons hast entered mine family
From the lives we didst choose!
They entered by portals
Between good and bad souls
They came and come as orbs
Spirtual energy
Trapped to a distance
God won't let them get to close to me
They always want more
They show themselves now and then
They'll portray themselves as good souls
Wherein its all pretend
The demons speaketh in mine bathroom
They hide out in the closets
Parched behind mine bedroom wardrobe
Spies as I sleepeth
They want mine bright soul
It's full of massive glowing energy
They know it as I'm told
So to bad because their not me
They made a big mistake
Turning away from God
Now their outcast losers
Fate of hell and grud!!
They'll soon be in chains and shackles
So they cause pain now whilst here on earth
They come in all shapes and sizes as I've heard from many others
Psychics
Life after death (experiences)
And from preachers
Pastors and others
They come large
Small
Animal like
Mauled
They come stinky
Scaly
Nothing thou shalt imagine
Couldn't fathom
Their everywhere
City streets
Malls
Gyms
Stalls
Homes
Air
First heaven
Second heaven
Hell
Everywhere
Yet these demons cannot taketh me
They knoweth I'm gods light
So demon get hence from me....
Go burn in thine own fright!!!!
Jun 17, 2015
Jun 17, 2015 at 4:26 PM UTC
Topaz dreams and fire flowers
Find their way into
Shadows and streams
In the space between
Our hearts and minds
Seams of alchemy
Blowing stars into birds
To touch our courageous
Sunlit beams
Dripping
Kissing
We
Keep
Running from our light
Praying that we’ll stay
Painting colors oh so bright
In the emotions we display
Flying
We are a painting in one another
A brush stroke full of hope
A paradox of intimately curious
Wings that have found a way to cope
Building a birdhouse home
On the backs of each other
Bones and sacred stones
A paradox of intimately curious
Wild tornadoes
Embracing
We walk in dark we walk in day
With footsteps often clumsy
And telepathy is not as easy as
Psychics will convey
Your hair is made of flowers
Or at least it seems that way
Our hearts are painted gold close to
The way the yellow birds that play
Around us when we stand
Glowing in our space
Exclusively
Beneath the tree
We made
Where Amen’s tears
The sun god
Rain
Around our love
Rushing in rushing out
Breathing in breathing out
Hold me close push me away
Both of us praying the other
One will stay
Kneeling
Pray
We are a painting in one another
A brush stroke full of hope
A paradox of intimately curious
Wings that have found a way to cope
Building a birdhouse home
On the backs of each other
Bones and sacred stones
A paradox of intimately curious
Wild tornadoes
This is our butterfly parade
© tHE tERRY tREE
Nov 22, 2014
Nov 22, 2014 at 6:44 AM UTC
The psychics were breathing smoke,
rummaging through my roommates collection of abstract art,
they told me what my favorite Modest Mouse album was,
they told me about my personality,
I told them I was a psychic,
they told me to **** off.
Everyone assumes an original identity
in the self-inflicted apocalypse
provided by that old friend, alcohol.
Kevin was the smooth-talking,
drink-mixing extraordinaire.
Kara was the cynic.
Shawna was the kindhearted.
Evan was sober.
Tyler was in and out.
I was the ******* that took a party pill,
bounced off everyone with a handshake
and an apology.
We **** ourselves to resurrect,
piece together the discordance,
the chaos,
the girls.
While the psychics were breathing smoke,
while Kevin was collapsing,
while everyone was worried about me,
all I could say was,
"This is the happiest night of my life,
and that depresses the hell outta' me."
I longed for the sirens in the distance,
I took another drink,
I longed for renewed innocence,
I took another drink,
I longed for someone to lay beside me,
I took another drink,
it was finally enough.
I took off my shirt,
made war with the remnants of stability,
of sanity,
told my friends I loved them,
and hoped that my time ended in sync
with the sunrise.
Sep 18, 2010
Sep 18, 2010 at 2:45 PM UTC
Reality isn't set in stone
My emotions live in my bones
Life's mistakes I will own
In dimensions I have grown
Pain I feel soul precise
Obtain greatest treasures through sacrifice
Do you feel me in your life?
Deep I plunge like a knife
Hmm WELCOME!!! To the hurt..
Wear my scars like a shirt
Pick yourself up from the dirt
You know what fails now find what works
Some call it Mental Alchemy
Don't need a map it all comes back to me
Eyes wide open but fail to see
Paths and patterns to our destiny
Third eye sight whatever you call it
Feel Vibrations like an Alcoholic
Multiply the good expel the toxic
Restoring the natural power down the robotic
Whoa no I'm not the only one
Many psychics roam free under the sun
Next level create it just for fun
Elevate Humanity..Human race will run
Mind's triggered thoughts explode like a bomb
Plant seeds of hope bloom long after I'm gone
Our Chapter's are short but story is long
Welcome to the Hurt from it we grow STRONG!!!
May 15, 2015
May 15, 2015 at 7:07 PM UTC
Aw Hell!
If you were on fire I would not come
I would not walk jump skip or run
to you.
I would just let you burn and warm yourself inside. With us on the
outs still fine.
Selfie!
If you were drowning I would
go back in time and **** the
man who invented rope so there'd
be none for you.
That's what I'd do.
So please please do not
contact me.
Consider me beyond the grave and there's no psychics.
Actually consider me never to
have existed at all.
Not in your memories not
even in a blade of grass
that's been stepped on.
Apr 22, 2014
Apr 22, 2014 at 8:39 PM UTC
In the last quarter of the twentieth century, much of the world sat on the edge of an increasingly expensive theater seat waiting for something momentous to occur. Christian aficionados of the Second Coming scenario were convinced that, after two thousand years, the other shoe was about to drop. And five of the era's best-known psychics predicted that Atlantis would soon reemerge from the depths. To this last, Princess Leigh-Cheri responded, "There are three lost continents…we are one: the lovers." In whatever esteem one might hold Princess Leigh-Cheri's thoughts, one must agree that the last quarter of the twentieth century was a severe period for lovers. It was a time a time when romantic relationships took on the character of ice in spring, stranding many little children on jagged and inhospitable floes. Nobody quite knew what to make of the moon anymore
Consider a certain night in August. The moon was so bloated it was about to tip over. For more than an hour, Leigh-Cheri stared into the sky. "Does the moon have a purpose?" She inquired. The same query put to the Remington SL3 typewriter elicited this response: Albert Camus wrote that the only serious question in life is whether to **** yourself or not. Tom Robbins wrote that the only serious question is whether time has a beginning and an end. Camus clearly got up on the wrong side of bed, and Robbins must have forgotten to set the alarm. There is only one serious question. And that is: Who knows how to make love stay? Answer me that and I will tell you whether or not to **** yourself. Answer me that and I will ease your mind about the beginning and end of time. Answer me that and I will reveal to you the purpose of the moon.
-La Dispute, One
Aug 23, 2014
Aug 23, 2014 at 8:28 PM UTC
The psychic was in any event
surprised, she looked into
her crystal ball, cast
a line of Tarot cards into
a deep blue tablecloth,
took my palm, to
read
between the lines of this life and
the silver sixpence which was insurance
for the things that happen
unexpectedly,
She read between the leaves
which formed a leaf or
page
of
history and detailed things that only she could see but things I knew and told me of a drought to come, a plague, a heartbreak and some fun and Julie Hargreaves in the sun but that was back in '61 or maybe '62, she knew but wouldn't say and sixpence doesn't go so far,
The time declined my offer of a further reading and the psychic never said if
I'd upset or if there was some road where it was leading me and if so would it all end there.
Spend a moment and one more and every moment is the core of a moment yet to come, each minute moment as foretold, bold as brass and the psychic, such a pretty lass though she didn't see that herself and
couldn't tell me or wouldn't say and afterwards the passing of my day in Colliers Wood, felt good, felt fine, even though time had declined to interpret what was shown written in the lines upon my palm or in the bottom of the cup of cards.
I'm sure that time had meant no malice nor no harm, it's just a case of wait and see and what ever was and what will be and psychics drinking cups of tea and me minus a silver sixpence and none the wiser for the loss.
Apr 23, 2015
Apr 23, 2015 at 5:39 AM UTC
Mentally, I started titling my poems
“If you only knew…”
the minute that you left
See, we were more like
Mother Nature’s children
Than we thought
Both of us polluted
Like the Ocean, I’m so full of this
Trash that everyone seems to leave me with
You were like poisoned vines,
Twisted and full of thorns
And roses you hide from the light
We built a garden though,
psychedelic and shining through the nights
we always stayed up
late for
Three psychics told me I’d love you
And one of them
In a dying breath told me you’d be
A rose
Boy was he right
I pricked myself just to
Hold you and adore you
Every single time
And I’d do it again
See, gardening takes work
So I cultivate this imaginary love
I hold something fragile every day and
Practice moving slowly enough
Not to break it
I listen to strangers talk
Until I’m bored and I keep….on….
Listening
So that I never miss another word
Love speaks
I look at myself in the mirror
And I find something beautiful
So that I can try to grasp
At how it felt the few times you
Actually looked at me like
I was (AM) a flower too.
*I AM A ROSE TOO, GOD **** IT*
I breathe you in like the fragrance
Of these roses that bleed my heart dry
And I wish you cut yourself on my poetry
Half as hard as we both have cut ourselves
Wishing we could bleed out whatever
Makes us undesirable
If only you knew
That I hungered for the few times
You came and watered me with your tears
Nourished my roots with your lips
Rolled around in the dirt
And loved our garden
….More than you loved her.
Jul 26, 2014
Jul 26, 2014 at 5:06 AM UTC
Shamans
Psychics
Schizophrenics
Mystics
Medics
Psychoanalysts
Politicians
Hypocrites
It’s in your head
It’s out of mind
It’s before our eyes
but most are blind
Buy Dark
Deal Light
Write left
Felt right
Free consciousness
from the physical fight
to dominate
through fear and hate
Religion and government
feed from the same plate
Inquisitions
Constitutions
Impositions
Insoluble solutions
in poisonous bruise
Drip-fed
in 24hr news
Brain dead
Twisted views
Controlling hands
that turn the screws.
© Verso-(David Moule) 06/03/08
Sep 19, 2010
Sep 19, 2010 at 5:34 PM UTC
I have been wanting to go see a psychic for awhile now.
I have a lot of questions, ones that I have spent years searching for answers.
And, I believe in the universe. So far.
And you must too.
How else do you explain us, except that the stars aligned perfectly.
May 2, 2016
May 2, 2016 at 6:47 PM UTC
We grew the earth, grew it around us and grew into it.
We grew into pairs of shoes after pairs of shoes
and we grew into our names.
We learnt to tie the laces of our shoes
and to tie our tongues around our names,
and the names of other things, other people,
and around other people's tongues.
We planted our cultures, cultivated them,
and they blossomed into traditions
and stereotypes and generalisations and rituals.
We broke in our shoes, broke the ice,
broke our voices, broke promises.
We broke glasses, hearts and bones.
We built hierarchies, looked up, looked down, bowed down.
We broke down into dictatorships and demonstration.
We found solutions like democracy
and diplomas and delegated.
We fixed fountains and freight trains
and falling trees in the forest and faucets that leaked.
We formed partnerships, made promises,
pledged to parties for both politics and both parents.
We made marriage and then we annulled, we divorced.
We fabricated the faiths that we fed on.
We invented stopwatches, reality television,
pedicures, lampshades, philosophy,
greenhouses, dictionaries, exclusivity,
feng shui, hand-holding, ****** medication,
street art, lawsuits, lingerie, car boot sales,
snow days, karaoke, comics, psychics,
boarding schools, toast, baseball, psychiatry,
bird-watching, plaid, research, stag nights,
slasher movies, salads, and interventions.
We wanted and we wished and we waited
and we wanted for more.
We were growing faster than we invented.
We were outgrowing ourselves
and our earth
and our shoes
and our names.
We forgot what we had found and fixed and formed.
We broke down and went broke.
We are waiting to invent a new way we can fix ourselves.
Dec 1, 2014
Dec 1, 2014 at 8:43 AM UTC
I've always found the concept of seeing the future in the dregs of a drink, ridiculous.
How are the leaves supposed to know who exactly has consumed the drink,
Let alone what may or may not happen to them in the near or distant future?
Do the leaves absorb a modicum of your soul
And use that to project predictions unto you?
By that logic, is it so the more tea you drink,
The less of your soul stays with you?
I may be the only one, but I find that idea to be very discomfiting.
I drink rather a lot of tea, you see.
At least a cup a day.
And now I fear it may be the cause of my untimely cynicism.
Of course, that may just be my tea-addled brain looking for something to blame it on.
As it is, I will continue to blame all negativity on witches and psychics and herbs and tea,
Because there is no one around to prove me wrong,
Or provide an alternate answer.
Jul 18, 2013
Jul 18, 2013 at 5:04 PM UTC
(Puh)
“The power to perceive something impossible persuades me. I must pick a place.” The Clairvoyant Gulch.
This person pounds the ground with persistence. A penchant to procreate perception. The Clairvoyant Gulch.
Passing away into peach fuzz and polyandry. Pretty Polly plans to participate in the process. The Clairvoyant Gulch.
Princess Penelope ****** on Polly. Paczki the predator penetrates the preposterous Polly.
The Clairvoyant Gulch.
The President of the Polyandry Psychics proposes: let Polly go but only with the presentation.
The Clairvoyant Gulch.
The Polyandry People peer and pry for what will Polly present. The poor prissy presents her ***** The Clairvoyant Gulch.
She placidly plucks the ***** to pay the People. But she then panics and pours pomegranate red over a *** The Clairvoyant Gulch.
The *** then becomes an urn so precious that the People pray. Polly feels penitent of her peccadillo. The Clairvoyant Gulch.
The President points to the urn. Paczki the predator places ingredients into the *** pig’s tail, pesto and plantar’s wart. The Clairvoyant Gulch.
The Polyanderthals round about and puke into the *** Polly prepares a peyote dish that will pause time. The Clairvoyant Gulch.
The President and People consume the *** It tastes vile and profane, they puke again. The Clairvoyant Gulch.
The Polyantherhals turn around to find Polly unpresent. They **** and pant in confused anger. The Clairvoyant Gulch.
Polly is passing the time, possessing a power within the Earth’s core. Her polyethylene pants protect her from the core’s melting point. The Clairvoyant Gulch.
As for the People, it was not practical for them to be presented such profane magic. Their perception of the universal paradigm had been inverted in perpetuum. The Clairvoyant Gulch.
As for the Polyanderthalic *** of ****** pomegranate juice, the President sold the item through Paypal to a polyandry professor living in Piccadilly. The People never practiced polyandry in perpetuum. Ever again.
~The Clairvoyant Gulch
Jan 21, 2017
Jan 21, 2017 at 5:14 PM UTC
The pendulum swings
Quarter past three
Time bites and stings
What time will it be?
Contorted mechanics pop
Broken hands pound
The beaten face drop'd
Eaten by the devil's hound
Cuckoo bird yelps
A searing pain
Scorching helps
The birds consciousness regain
Time stands still
Psychics can't forsee
The lighthouse on a hill
Nowhere near a sea
Blood drips from the wound gears
Silently covering the floor
With my absorbed fears
Watch it close my door
Nov 27, 2012
Nov 27, 2012 at 3:41 PM UTC
I do not believe
in color schemes
not white
nor red & blue
Only what
my pen to paper bleeds
is what I consider true
I cannot recognize
what psychics see
but I know my past
is void of eyes
and does not make the future me
I do not swear by
what the christians say
but I've seen angels fly
both night and day
I cannot affirm
what the muslims claim
in turn I see it all
as the same ball,
same chain
Oct 9, 2011
Oct 9, 2011 at 7:19 AM UTC
Belief and faith
Guided by a deity
But the virtues and morals placed on me
I do not believe so
No religion or cult has proof or disproof
They believe what they believe
Symbols have different meanings in different eyes
Parallel philosophies in different lives
From witchcraft
To a black mass
A hanging cross
Paradise lost
Psychics and telepaths
Seems hokey
But it’s possible it sounds to me
Beauty is in the eye of the beholder
Well, the beholder might be blind
Or maybe we’re not in the universal mind
I believe in giving everything a chance
Taking what makes sense to me
And kindly placing down what I can’t dig
Dec 15, 2013
Dec 15, 2013 at 1:01 PM UTC
Is it a ghost?
The devil?
A guardian angel?
Or God?
Paranormal?
Supernatural?
Alien?
Sci - Fi?
Entity.
Satanic or demonic?
Evil or a warning?
Can they see the future?
Is it a ghost plane?
Can they stop, pause or rewind?
Or skip times?
Can they control time lapse?
Why do my home DVDs have glitches?
Imaginary or normal?
Who is the judge?
Do the seagulls hear then too?
Or can the birds see them?
They bow their heads as if to acknowledge their presence?
A hushed whisper in the wind barely heard above the crashing waves, helicopters and construction.
The static of the ocean.
A life force that's lived before.
It knows my daughter's name.
It has enough energy to project the sound of a whisper.
I rewind & it repeats.
The same recorded voice.
I did not hear while making the video.
Until I played it.
Ripley's Believe It or Not.
America's strangest videos.
Can psychics hear them?
Can they control our thoughts or words?
Or actions?
It's creepy.
This is during the daylight.
At the same beach.
Whoever it is the voice sounds like it's behind me
Or right next to me.
An invisible presence.
A threat?
A ****** soul?
A trapped soul?
A haunting ghost, spirit or angel?
Good or bad?
September discovery.
It wasn't me.
Ariel heard it too.
Recorded proof of the unseen.
Friend or foe?
May 12, 2016
May 12, 2016 at 10:20 PM UTC
PSYCHIC WORLD
Why do people a psychic doubt
Not knowing what he’s about
Is it because they fear?
He’ll tell them that which they want not to hear
Not all psychics are what they claim to be
But they do entertain you for a fee
Then there are those who ARE gifted too
Who will an honest reading do for you.
Your life to you they will unfold
So listen close to what your told,
Some things they say will not seem true
Having been forgotten about by you.
What’s in your future and in your past
Hoping you will get the answers at last
Sometimes you will and sometimes not
Not all is revealed of the things you sought.
The reader will pass on what the spirits reveal
Some things will dismay you while others appeal
The spirits are with you and reveal what you seek
As to you through the psychic they speak.
AS A PSYCHIC I KNOW OF WHAT I SPEAK
R. Taub Oct 23 2011
Jun 11, 2015
Jun 11, 2015 at 1:18 AM UTC
If my kind of crazy ever becomes
Your kind of heat.
Stuck-on, sweating the
Small of your back.
I just think I'd like to know. But, I'm
Okay, either way.
Anything to
Help spin your gems,
Closed eyes, yearning,
Projected romantic foolishness.
Remaining, vigilant, relevant.
Bolt me, back onto the
Bracketing. Make me make my sense.
Turn me four shades of color, your
Psychics won't name, but
Keep the floor close to my knees.
Fruity alcohol inebriates the same way.
But take your berries outta my
******* tobacco.
Smoke my harsh ones, 'till your lungs scar.
Or, tell me that I'm vague.
If your pick of poison ever matches
My brand of cigarettes
The floor's always open, without help, anyway.
Take care, for my sake, not to
Ash on the rug.
"Okay. Either way..."
May 6, 2014
May 6, 2014 at 12:28 PM UTC
I haven’t thought your name in a month, I forget when the time arrived that I stopped keeping track of how many times you crept across my mind
They say the day that moment arrives is when you’re done grieving
Done allowing the sadness to seep in
Done letting the dead mess with you
Done living life with a ghost
Ma’s seen multiple psychics as a way to still have you in her life
number 4, letter A, books, pride, my voice
Regret
wishes he could still be by our side, living the happy life he led with us before it was so rudely ripped away
As ma says this I turn my head and cover my ears
The dead can’t talk
The dead can’t think
The dead can’t wish
The dead can’t live
He says he can’t believe how much you’ve grown, your voice, your hair, your strength. He wishes he could’ve been there as you grew up
As ma says this I hold my breath and count to thirty
Thoughts of pale corpses
Thoughts of cold skin
Thoughts of heavy caskets
Thoughts of cold, January wind
Thoughts of silence
Ma looks over at me waiting for a response but I only briskly nod my head
The dead terrifies me, always has
Pa telling us to hold our breath and close the windows whenever we passed a graveyard
They’ll get you and never leave you
You’ve never left me
Hair tugging, moving things, whispering
The last thing we talked about was religion, you ate your favorite steak and sat down for a movie
I walked the dog around nine for an hour, the night wind brisk, swirling
wondering what I did to be blessed with such a loving life
Death terrifies me, it hasn’t always
Never knowing when it’ll visit
Never knowing who it’ll take
Never knowing
Left wondering
Oct 9, 2015
Oct 9, 2015 at 9:23 AM UTC
I write better than I speak
and comprehend
much more than I read
We are all unwilling psychics
reading each others minds
like skimming thru half read lines
of a familiar novel as if we know somebody
Do I bore you with my simplicity
or do I bore into you...
on a mission
Sep 30, 2017
Sep 30, 2017 at 8:55 PM UTC
Struggle has been always
My eternal aim
As everybody makes me feel
It's a shame
As I will never give a ****
Or think to say something the same
Once they ponder or think it's ephemeral
I'd say it will continue to my funeral
I doubt them saying that's insane
As I'll just say the same
Since I knew them dooming
Goals and aims
and will always be looming
As you know hopes will haunt my thinking
sounds like they are trying to exorcise my dreaming
Creepy so it seems, I hope them thinking about conjuring
They are just virtues which are residing
It doesn't hurt that much,
I got my plenty sources who have been
And will always be
Supporting and backing.
So as I bet they simulate epics,
no hunch and so positive I am
they can be psychics
and shrinks.
Aug 5, 2016
Aug 5, 2016 at 8:27 AM UTC
i have let go of my grips my life is open to those who have the wrong ideas.
my free fall has let go all my stress and fears or what a mistake u have made when i let go when your try'ed to pull me to freedom when the ****** games when they become a danger to this life. i have taken to this world a thrill of my own free falling like following your mind. my free fall is nothing you can stop i'm insane and filled with the energy to bounce off the walls. thrill seeking danger's have made my life so exiting that feels like this world has no fair game to catch me. follow me and ill show you a world of thrills and shakes so watch this take you phone and video tape me in the act of insanity. this world is so unfair but living life with no limits is what we have to fight for to follow our true dreams. your bullets may fly but your words only leave marks and lies all over your mouth. i have fallen the wrong way but your own things have catch'ed me in the nets of hell .
this world i walk is a free fall but i live in this insanity with life with no limits. dont let people prove you wrong. risks have the memories. only the chills you get when you see people who are pulling danger. but i'm just stuck in day dream shutting out all the society's voices out of line.
life with out thrill or danger is not fair to live life only if you live in the pitch dark not knowing what this world has to show you.
i'm not crazy but i'm kinda insane psychotic and i have no fear what choice will come at me
but i live a life with no boundr's or limits. cause im not going to let things stop me till i make my path to reach sky high.
im not going to let any thing stop me no untile i do all my ideas to prove them all wrong.
this world is so nasty with people who think they can prove you wrong.
i will rip people's souls out along my ride but i have my idea to prove this god **** world wrong. even if it takes me to set a blaze of unknown ideas that will wipe out the ones who just hold the world down treating ideas like a threat but i still have ideas to change this worlds prospective. cause my ideas are bullet proof to all your words and hate you spread..
so if you want to know well take my hand and lets run threw the night making mistrife till we just let go and let out all our fears. untile you have cleaned our all your darkest regrets out. so follow me and will finally have the free free fall to end all the regrets behind and let out all your anger then you just have to let your life most disires drive your fears unleash.
just follow me cause life with no limits the laws of psychics is when you have your free falling when you get the magical feeling of death defying chills.
i live with no fear or hills but my ideas have played the game of what i truly have acheeved.
free fallen is my life of insane **** that will end all rules of lies i will prove this world wrong of every thing
free falling is a choice so it wont break gental but it will make life even more fun to explor your own limits.
Jan 7, 2016
Jan 7, 2016 at 9:57 AM UTC