Chicago streets litter themselves
with sequins and vintage gin...
"The Great American Plastic Factory"
I call it the Grind...
My story, like a frame of what is said to be my...
Every design is a memory, carved...
Who are you?
have you ever stopped to ask yourself this...
Those colors so bright
No dark to swollow our hearts...
Moment soon the soul whimper,
Hesitate to touch mighty feet...
Perhaps we haven't reached the end of the world...
We are no longer sensitive toward blood, we infact...
He just never seemed to grasp reality,
staring up at the ceiling in his empty king-sized...
Have you ever
Just want to be alone...
"Skinny", she said, "that I'd like...
Pulls out the magazine...
Do you see this smile?
It's one of a girl who can't trust...
With those blood stained hands
you captured world attention...