old xanga entry – 7/25/05

the sounds of laughter is really crying, echoing.
moving on from the past and let going.
sleeping songs wide awake and unknowing.
wake up in the night with sweat flowing.
humid and hot is the air blowing.
the bump in my heart is still growing.
based on a true story is now showing.
what you speak is not always what you be knowing.
mines left unblasted for the future destruction of bastards.
never a straight answer for the question that i asked her.
the lessons of life i have yet to master.
show the true skintone never hidden like a masked whore.
end up on the wrong side like the last four.
never ask twice when the poor got to ask more.
get your back straight you laying on the wood floor.
half eye still see all and more.

old xanga entry – 11/11/05

no less then the best can bring
the best song to sing is still not the thing
pullin out from within it was pulled thin
the sin that bring in the feeling of gin
mixed with other things making sane flowing
let go of what you knowing
actions more than word can showing
style borrowing then burrowing
head rush lowering packed brush clovering
intercept with my forehead wet
pass rush to the outrun position never set
creeping when I came crept
took down cause you hard step
passed out like you hard slept