While incarcerated, God gave me a mission. I told him in order to complete this mission, I need my own space. I can't give myself to God in front of people. He didn't seem to take offense, because he blessed me with this situation where I may get my own apartment in the near future. As the time draws nearer to getting this place, I'm getting anxiety about completing this mission.
I'm trying, God.
The memories haunt me. My decisions taunt me. I know I can do better for you. Nevertheless, you're allowing me time with my brothers on the slide (crate dig, y'all). I can't thank you enough for clearing the air between us.
I NEED George.
I WANT Dilla.
I RESPECT Jack.
And that's just the original "other 3".
Daft, DaM and Knuckles know I love them. There's just a deeper love 4 has for each other. So I hope they don't feel ostracized by me.
But DAMN, God!
You got love for my peoples, too!
I can't let you down.
And I know the people are gonna love what we're working on.
Goths, I'm a work in progress.
Christian upbringing.
Korn/Eminem nourishment.
Former pyromaniac.
Former carver.
Intentional overdose-er (not just lyrics).
I'm finding my soul.
I miss Rock-n-Roll. Modern rock sucks cock.
I also kinda miss New York winters.
I'm just more in a rush to address my declining love for Rock.
Still love you, my playground!!! (NYC)
Nothing like you, anywhere on Earth!
Good morning, LA!!!
What are we gonna agree on feverishly today?
