The Dark Angels are a come and go crew. They create then disappear like street art. Their works exist in fragments, particles that float, dust motes that spin before the wind that blows them to faraway places. They are individuals that work as one. Deep as oceans, as impenetrable as the night. Art urchins and poets, they dissolve before they form. They are the Dark Angels, they are discharge. They are a bloody mouthful.
6 comments:
Psycho-surreal! Beautiful.
By "psycho" I meant "psychedelic."
I think.
oh too late Decker!
im greatly insulted..
meet me tomorrow noon
under the big oak tree
youR choose of guns
hahahahaaha! lol!
"Albert Lee
went to pee
behind a big oak tree."
That the one you mean? The grownups used to laugh when they sang that at me. You ain't no grownup are you? OK, I'll be there, but I'm bringin' the same gun I hand in my hand that time.
;-p
good enough for me!
My friends used to chase me and they would squash me with chairs from the classroom in corners so i could beg for mercy..
Im well trained now in mind manipulation and shock tactics,
be prepared..
my gun blows lethal bubbles and stardust☄ ★ ☆
Post a Comment