I had some nervous afflictions that would sometimes hold me back. Nightmares, fueling tremors that left me tired and mad. Mental traumas parading around as if they were a fad. It was mostly strange and really not all that bad– the occurences and the people who filled fragmented time when I was hardly lost, and still, meaningfully sad. With I spent more money on cigarettes than I would drop on my last dope sack. In empty pipes and light bags no longer lost, but stolen. $200+ lost and I’m wondering who let this motherfucker in. And all along I thought the door man was my friend. Now with newly set plans to move East, I’m flying out to later roll back in one piece. So carelessly dusted off, in mufflers that break and fall off we’re looking for something a little more kept, leaving me further in and furthermore out of debt. Fifteen hundred flat and I’m doing my best, at the time. Everything else is chalked up to future goals fading in and out of off-yellow lines. Meanwhile I can’t seem to write too well with a growing tendency to forget. Another life-long project written through the eyes of the world’s weirdest prophet with last years prospects. Designed in retrospect with thoughts that disect everything. But surely we are learning. Living the fast life with even faster spent earnings.
Still waiting with an impatient ease for another unwanted fling. And you think you’ve caught on, but you still don’t know a damn thing. And at 53% most of my useless fears fled and I was mostly happy to have kept you in my bed; wherever that may be. On the floor or in a tree. In someone we’ve just mets backseat or on top of the city’s largest grafitti art stage. Not during, but after, some fucking gay play where you and I sat side by side and everyone else there melted away. I wasn’t surprised.
By 9:00PM I wanted to go back again but you wouldn’t let me. Silent grief awaited me in a purple button down my friend gave to me to host. Well, I’m not doing my best but I’m making the most.