Are we going to have a problem, if stupidity didn’t exist, and everything was said with a clear mind, my emotions would be at peace, and I could punch you in the face with a steadfast hand for asking me this, live, laugh, love, virginity and youth, and idiots asking questions, who am I, just a poet discarding ideas, there’s so much, and personally, it's of no use, the inclination, and a leaning intention, towards instigation, buried under this mountain is a heartbeat, in hell we all got fed, but we fought and bit, and earned everything we eat, circumstance and bitter fruit could decide this, your unyielding mood, but I’ve drawn a lot of lines, with my head bowed to the altar of the moon, live, laugh, love, my father watches, red blood in your veins, are you with him, or are you food…

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