Contrary to popular belief:
I'm complicated.
What it is one time PAC DIV.
My mind is a blood red brick house on Stone street
with thousands of rooms; blue mirrors,
the auroma of marajuana and music.
Cacoethes Scribendi. Get it tattooed on my wrist.
New Orleans native. My accent proves it all.
I am finally beggining to accept the fact that I am meant to be alone.
I am forever in the cycle of change.
I tend to treat serious situations like how I treat strangers.
I'm a starving writer and a dying phtographer.
No one will ever comprehend or understand.
When I die I want Bob Marley playing at my gravesite.
I am the rose that grew from concrete.
Shit gets sadder as I grow and realize
that the dreams I longed to pursue
as a child will never come true.
I wished I could be a astronaut.
I mean, that's the best job in the universe.
You just watch the world spin above you in a
space ship.
And the world spins pretty fast from three million miles away.
Flying.
Defying gravity.
If only :(
