i am THE game, boy!

oh yes, i've set this tongue to stun. baby load the barrel, this war's begun. if you are the future then you know i'm taking history. he died? he died greatious, please. ring, ring that tambarine. shake it. you're scene, i've seen straight through your skin lovely. it's your bed but i'll lie here. pillow talk gets you nothing but skin. do, do, do you believe me now? like you, these sheets are clean cut, & the tongue is much sharper. chapter two; letters from god?

to the left. to the left.

Graphic Designer / Illustrator Anthony Burrill & sculptor Michael Marriott

strife insurance?

these jeans seams seem tighter then i'm used to. oh but we all get used too, hey? i miss the creases like you'd miss the folds. big smokes with little flicker. big hearts with little ticker. we're ankle deep, so these kicks best start treading water. coin coincedence but these queens don't stretch as far as we believed. donning our eyes, double crossing our tease. our backs against wall street, while higher heads control the mast. i miss the creases, but like you i fold.

snake eyes.snake eyes.

we never did rattle those ivory die

slumdog chamillionaire.

I guess you left me eating my words. A little taste of my own medicine. It's short yet oh so sweet. It's the sugarcoat that makes me, makes me weak.

hushhhh?

we swore we'd never make a sound, but this skin talks & lately i'm pleading it speaks. these sheets bleed sugar & sweat. we made waves between catching our breaths. oh no don't come knocking. don't come knocking at all. we hide behind closed doors. these walls have stories, leading roles, misleading hearts. stop the tape. rewind to remind. rewind & we're done.

the great white hype.

i've been walking around with my head in the sand. breathing's overated, unless taken with a grain. i swear, oh i swear that it's all i can do. parading sharks skin while protesting 'research'. hypocrits headlined the week. condoned in black & white. the media can molest the best outta me. and you? i hope that you can read between the print. it sticks. it stick. like another dollar in rupert's pocket. we'll never see change.