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Muse LOVE men exclusively through platonic friendships. Muse call it "quicksand pussy." I pity muse for their "radiance." That's their curse to FIGHT a losing battle with beauty aging like spoiled milk. I'm going to piss you off with my ideas, so don't make hating contrarians your pastime. Because that's what a loser would do. I want to love my neighbour, but reality sobers me with man's ALARMING absurdity to deny immutable flaw with the (rational) fear of accountability. Word of advice to Italian males...stay the FUCK away from redheads; they are sexual kryptonite. Don't LOVE the bullet, DODGE it like Neo. Like I eventually did. Bullets are meant to graze, never kill. It's a loser's yearning...to be worth the jealousy blind love defeats with fantasy's pitfalls: reality. Love alone is NOT moral. Radiance...radiance...be gone you leopard-eyed sphinx... time forgets you with introspection and hindsight. Belligerent minds age like wine. Pity is the bullet which doesn't graze. Unless I trust you, fuck off.
Below is a small sampling of my content.
Book Trailer for my second book "I Don't Believe You."
Timelapse Pencil Drawing (Viewer discretion is highly advised)
A song I wrote called "Power Woman."
My pizza inspired by my Nonna. If you don't know the name of my pizza, it's because you don't have my seal of appeal.
Tomato Sauce Boss.