February 3, 2005.

with emotion i write, a thousand thoughts lost to fiction.
too much imagery to speak, i despise censored writtens.
keyboards are like pianos, the most cynical but lively models.
think up a topic, and witness your lines evolve into novels.
many lose their insight, but no one ever loses vision.
with precsision, sit down and write something worth annibition.

February 15, 2005.

my booth stays direct, throw my jesus piece round my neck...
cause i never leave home without it, thats mad respect.
ive been living life wrong, still gettin hexed from that 03 connect.
wishing i was living some other soul, not so deaf wrecked.
ppl hearing my name & shame me, cause its me they eject.
i regret even coming up, cause fallin down had a death effect.
my closure is expected, i cant hold my own chedda.
if i ever come up again, i wont vex my own vendetta.