Vogol's Art

Vogol, its time to put it on. The last suit you’ll ever wear. You’ll dress only in attire specially sanctioned by MiB special services. From now on you’ll have no identifying marks of any kind. You’re a rumor, recognizable only as deja vu and dismissed just as quickly. You don’t exist; you were never even born. Anonymity is your name. Silence your native tongue. You’re no longer part of the System. You’re above the System. Over it. Beyond it. We’re “them.” We’re “they.” We are the Men in Black.

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vogolsart

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February 15, 2018

What if I really like my old life. Because like… I get to sip OJ out of a champagne glass. I mean I wanna put on this suit but I’m chilling out maxing relaxing all cool while shooting some b-ball outside of the school, on the playground (where I’ve of course spent most of my days, sadly not in West Philadelphia). And like the cabbie has already came near, I would join the MiB but I unfortunately I just finished telling the Cabbie, “yo homes to Bel-Air.”

A pity.

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