Soul - Personal Journalist. this is...this is for...you can...you can call me..Erik, silversoul or your own personal journalistso if you're in search for a murderous & versatile verbalistor a jerk that is courteous, a fleeing smirk that's impervious aimed at a hurt that resurfaces and occurs every third minute who struggles with curbing this turbulence & deterring his nervouseness & the surges of worthlessness that's lurking and circle hishead and worm down his shirt to where his socks & dirty converses sitI've heard you can't purchase bliss at least that how I've learned to interpret it cus I've never heard of it, and never been irked or unnerved by it but hate was alert and reversed the shit I observed and perverted itI was an introverted and purposeless nerd who deserved this shit I started writing verses to murs's shit and put my own versions versus his it helped nursing the purple bits of flesh that emerged when I hurt a bitan otherworldly girl existed that reversed the hurt and nervousnessI was turned by her quirkiness, her green eyes exerted this perfectnessblended with sturdy and curvy hips, brown hair and perfectly purdy lipsI immersed my girl in superlatives, absurdly every verb would fit fromobserving her perky tits I'd wanna do dirty and pervy shitwhen it occurred all my words were missed, face drained of blood tried subverting my nervous twitch, my speech was blurred and dispersed amidst the surplus of persons observing us I urgently searched for it cus I couldn't tell her I loved her when my speech was slurred but I worded itmy feeling were also spurred by it's drive & unearthly assertiveness my works on preserving it's authenticity were unperturbed by iteven when I was on the verge of deserting it, my brain worked to discourage itthought I was cursed to be curved by it but my heart hadn't the nerve to concur with ita too perfect lil bird for this murky old earth she is with an urge to go further which meant I had to let her flyshe met a turd who wore skirts & this led to hurtful words & shit what I've learned from this journey is that I would've rather said goodbyeit serves as both curse & gift to remember when hers were merging withmy nervous virgin lips still I smirk but I'm hurt by itI still urgently thirst for it but this world is just mercilesswords are superfluous for how I felt when she curled up & purred a bit in my lap searching for purpose in her eyes murdered my nervousnessno further emergencies emerged with my girl it was perfect bliss.I know it looks fucked. but all the words passed the margain.peace sign.