Today my niece was concerned that there was water on her little slide. I came over and dried it off with my butt. She went down the slide and then told me her butt wasn’t wet. I said mine was and she asked me why (she’s at the “why” phase), and I said “i sacrificed my dry butt for your slide”
We moved like crystallized shadows and in the dark it looked like we were wasting our time
Because I’m a living crime
But what other reason than to live like human beings than to be alive and then to see the light
The light behind your eyes
She moved like listerine and slithering, she made me want to sit still and talk about doing something
We didn’t do a thing
I tried to cut her skin right off and it was weird but it felt good and after that she got me high
We all do what it takes just to get by
And more, as we’re locking the bedroom door, believe me when I say I’ll smoke just a little more
I’m sorry we’re probably not really friends anymore. You’ve probably grown up and I’m ashamed. You probably know who and what you love. I’m lost and wandering and know myself as much as an addict knows the drug. There’s familiarity, there’s a mutual connection, and I know it’s hurting me to be, but there’s no way to break this game.
I’m red white and blue, but all they see is red, red, red.
Someone tell me why the fuck I am out here. 12 more days and I gotta head to Arkansas… Waka starts on the 30th, so I’ll give myself ample time to get there. I might just go back to Sacramento for a little while but I’m a little concerned that I’ll just waste time hanging out at the house. I just need to make sure I’m not doing drugs the entire time. Some extra cash would be nice for waka, but I’ll probably just end up spending it on fun time drugs… damn it sucks to be broke, I will probably just die at wakarusa
I could go back to the Sac just for the crack
It’s no surprise that you’re as broken as you seem
dude i don’t know why i like it but i do and i need to stop thinking about it
I don’t have any fucking direction in life anymore. I don’t know what the fuck I am doing with myself. I’m fucking tossing away any potential I once had simply to wonder what it is that I want to do. Perhaps it’s because I’m coming down from my high and I haven’t slept any more than 4 hours since Tuesday, or maybe it’s because I’ve lived with depression my entire life. In three hours I will be picked up by a stranger who will drive me for seven hours to San Diego and I don’t know if I will trust him enough to sleep along the ride. I don’t know any more than his name, what city he lives in, and his phone number. He might fuck me in the ass and that’s not cool. Or maybe it is.
I need distractions from the distractions
Spinning, not fast enough, I’m spinning, but not spinning fast enough, and I’m drinking to keep your pace, but I don’t get drunk the way you do.
Blame my weather on the altitude. I’m warm at the edges and cold on the inside, or maybe it’s all reversed, and the wheel is spun.
I don’t know if I can call this a day too many times now. I’m wound up and I’m ready to set loose, but it was good to call yours my home.