what are you? I don't mean, are you a male or a female. I don't mean are you human, or whatever. I mean: deep inside, in your core; What are you? you are not a body, though you have a body. you are not mind, though you have a mind. what are you?
I would only have homoerotic fantasies if drunk, and when I'm drunk, I don't remember much. So, what is the opposite of absolute zero? Uncertain zero. That's your answer.
The answer to this question can be found by playing "Midnight Train to Georgia" by Gladys Knight and the Pips backwards at approximately 37.1246 rpm.
I am a bayou river-bed lit by a full moon, stamped with the fleeting shadow of a man breaking apart at a million miles per hour and being tempted by the sweet music of a moon-lit bayou midnight.
No. I don't smoke, drink, or do any drugs. Nothing to get a hit off of. But I can write more artsy metaphorical bullshit, if you like.
Not a fucking thing. Hence, artsy metaphorical bullshit. Poets are all liars. Don't listen to a single one of us.
not all poets are liars not all liars are poets poets, or bards were once the great truth tellers. or at least the great truth tellers were poets. (but that was a long time ago)
"Just your average, run of the mill beating the living shit out of someone." how uninteresting, good to hear but uninteresting. okay what is your biggest desire that will never be fufilled? (do i love asking questions? )
Having a long career in the NBA. Don't even have to think about it, that's my answer. However, my dream of coaching D-1 college basketball is not out of the picture.
I'm inclined to disagree. Artists have always been about ego. However, the form and mannerisms of ego has changed.
"Having a long career in the NBA. Don't even have to think about it, that's my answer." good answer. can i ask more questions?