who are you bitch

I look in the mirror and I find the answer, it´s good and bad,
fucking sad, or not, push yourself to the ultimate limit and
then you tell me who are you, only through being fucked up.
I wanted to write a poem, hit it.

ends in a ditch
she screech
and i become the daddy
you are my honey

Stay Frosty gents and gentesses.


baby driver

If you see the words
They´re actually in reverse
And maybe who know a verse
So I call it out and reverse
The driver
Of words all mightier
A hater
Raped in a paper
A humanitarian just on paper
The baby driver
Of words for the insider

Stay Frosty gents and gentesses.


Brad only knew one thing, he didn’t care about the bling,
but, only the shooting and killing. The blood from his victims gave him thirst.
First, for more blood.
Second, it gave him an urge to fecund.
He took to many souls, and with his urge to fecund….YOU can be the son of Brad.
Who was not all that bad, just mad.

Stay Frosty gents and gentesses.