I'm full of way too much emotion.

I admit it. I stuck frigging needles in my arms both running from it and after it.
I have spent most of my life hiding from that dirty E-word.
Passion is a beast that will consume you, it's also the best friend you could ever have.
Love is blood, blood you need to survive on and blood that will fall out of you and kill you.

Why this post?

Because I feel passion.
Nothing today could keep me from fucking or fighting.
I could kiss or kill.
I am afraid of my strength in both areas.

I sometimes did drugs to mute my ends and calm my energies.
They never worked but they did take me out of the exact moment.
I took advantage of women in the same way. I used them to dominate my emotions for me.
I stopped reading books and only read news now because I hate being trapped in pages.
I never did walk. I used to brag that I could cross Boston quicker on foot than you could driving.
One day in Los Angeles, California I was walking very quickly through crowds.
As I charged through them on Cauhanga Street near a bank I scraped my arm open on the white stone panel siding. I liked the cuts and loved the bleeding so I did it again and again and again untill my arm was torn up.

I think I liked the reality of it. It seemed better than the fukkin bullshit I was walking out of.

Nothing can stop a feeling, but some things delay them.

I use art to escape for a while and delay emotions...