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.
Remember when I said I was getting my hair cut like Rihanna's?
Fuck that, I'm getting my hair cut like Kelis. She was the mother of the cut and Rihanna is getting props for it.
Gorgeous isn't it?
