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-------------------- A plethora of music aspirations control my temptations of future revelations beyond "now". The percussion, and the heart beat of my love and devotion. The rhythm goes beyond, prying into the third eye, releasing the creativity held so far inside. The melodicies, through the out of tune pianos and broken classical guitars...there lies a beauty. A beauty as prevelent as the fire inside. To release these energies is pure ecstacy, to deveop these gifts is sacred. The vocality, so pure as can be, shying away from herself, lies within me. For the underlying serenitity, this is what I live for. I plea for harmony, and nothing more. Music equals love. Creation of love leads to the procreativity of the World, and it's spirals and puddles prevailing.
any kind my dealer can get. i don't have the luxury of being able to chose a favorite strain due to weed not exactly being sold in strains around here, but of all the strains i came across in my life i have to say the one time i had Jamaican red-hair was the best. i actually started to see things in neon colors instead of normal colors. a couple of gang bangers happened to be in the same park at 3 am, and we smoked em out and kicked it. a guy and girl walked a few hills over and started fucking, i looked over and they looked more like tiki masks dancing on the hill. i then realized i was watching this gang banger and his g/f fuck. oops...
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