Chapter: Recycled Thoughts

I'm sitting here waiting for my dad to drive me back to school. Sitting here I realize I think about the wrong things too much, not necessarily wrong, but redundant. I recycle my thoughts Ooo and it's wearing my mind out. What happened to exploring and wondering about other cool things. I recently learned that what we know can limit what we imagine. True isn't it? I know too many facts and it's stifling my creativity. My recent art is only secreted emotions onto a canvas. What happened to new ideas or crazy thoughts. I don't know, I just know what I need to stop thinking about, it's engulfing my mind.

Chapter: Proud Buffalo Soldier

If I was to document the thoughts that run through my mind, there wouldn't be enough paper.

If I was to type it all down for all of you to see, my nows would occupy my laters.

That was going to be a poem, but I can't focus because I have Barracka Flocka Flame -Head of the State stuck in my head. So yeah, about that...

What's going on world? or whoever's reading this? Been a while, I know you missed me. Just kidding, I don't have an ego like that (or do I?) Hm, just found what I'm going to talk about. Pride.

Does pride get in the way of things or what? It's crazy that someone can hold on so dearly to their pride, rather then fess up and admit they were wrong. You're just making yourself look stupid and confirming my belief that you truly are an idiot. Do you love yourself that much, that it blinds you from seeing what you're really doing? That you're throwing the wr

ong sauces into this dish and just gonna send yourself straight to the bathroom once you're finished eating it. What am I saying? Moving on.

Bob Marley was the man. He worked for me when I was a child and apparently for this little kid too.

The power of reggae is some powerful stuff.

Do you think marijuana should be legalized? Medical marijuana? Let me know your opinion, it's about time I started interacting with my readers.

Chapter: Anxious Aspirations

We lose sight of what we have when we doubt it. We think it'll always be there, same story over and over again. Then it's really gone. Then what? We move on? Moving on is climbing over a colossal boulder threaded in roses. Each time we reach, we get pricked. I'd rather stay on this side, then become numb by all the pain I'd go through to climb over. It hurts either way, but isn't there pleasure on the other side of pain. But at this point feeling nothing sounds better than anything to you. I do not understand the things that happen, I cannot interpret them. Being lost leaves me with anxiety. I am anxious to know the truth. What is happening God, what is this?

Chapter: The Artist

(painting by unknown artist)

The artist emerges from the ashes of burning beauty. The artist flourishes when happenings expel pure emotions. The artist blooms at the feeling of melancholic gloom. The artist's paint is it’s tears spread across a canvas. The artist breathes, what it lives. It’s more than just a painting. It’s our reflection.

Chapter: Influencers Full

INFLUENCERS FULL VERSION from R+I creative on Vimeo.