Apr 11, 2009

I play ultimate, not poetry...... my body flies, not my words

Machine,

Seven days left till Sectionals.

One hundred sixty eight hours till we end our Journey.

Ten thousand eighty minutes till we Breathe again.

Six hundred four thousand eight hundred seconds till the streets of Gunswick once again flow with blood.........

Till footsteps echo across the silent surfaces of the night, till broken profecies strewn across the ground like empty shards of glass begin their resurrection, and the gears of destiny once more begin to grind.

Grinding Gears in Ghetto Gunswick.

Get some........