No Rescue, PleaseI am afraidNo Rescue, Please
Afraid that someday someone will try to rescue me from my complicated, troubled, dramatic world Then what the fuck will I have to write about?
Welcome to My HomeI was walking down the street today.Welcome to My Home
Like normal there was nothing new.
There never is; always the same old fucking people.
Still the same old lady clutching her purse to her chest at the bus stop.
Still the same frustrated artist type guy drinking his morning serving of black coffee. Still the same group of wannabe black gangsters walking down west seventh (I’d like to see them last a week in Los Angeles). Still the same poor black and white men just walking down the street because that’s all they can do, walk,
walk and hope to find a job to feed their families.
Cigarettes, LustIt’s cold in my apartment. The fourth cigarette of the morning is burning wildly; the fourth glass of tea is two sips shy of a refill. The light snoring coming from the bed has now stopped and I only wonder: is he coming out of a REM cycle or going into one?Cigarettes, Lust
Of course, looking at him sweetly sleeping begins a whole new set of thoughts. I’m not dreaming of a wonderfully fantastical future with him, no. In five years’ time, the one characteristic I’d like remaining in our relationship is the innocence, the freshness we have maintained so far. In five years, I want to stop typing away at my ultra-sleek black keyboard and turn
Season Change
Artistic
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Kill yourself for art!
I love you ^_^
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I don't know.
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