It seems I'm on another poetry kick. I don't know where it is coming from, I promise it is unintentional. It is just pouring out of me right now. Maybe it's the
swear-worthy agony that's goin' on. Isn't there something about great art being born out of pain? If it's true, you better hang on to your turban kid, cause when I die, this stuff will be worth more than the Mona Lisa!