Sunday

The beginning is the end.

Sunday

Writing

Museum

Egypt

Girl

New York

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Can’t Sleep…

*  * *

It was nights like this when I’d write. Bloodshot eyes, whiskey on my breath, and a joint in the hand to help me relax. I’m also typing this with my right hand. A few mistakes but well worth the few puffs I get in before the fire dies out. It’s 3:51 in the mornin’. I miss him like the heavens miss a fallen angel. You feel bad for it up until a certain point. The cats are fed and the dog is filled with poo. Can’t sleep, what am I to do? I made a mistake and prepared for the best, but in my own interest. This joint is working its voodoo. I’m tired now. Goodnight. Ashes, ashes, we all fall down.

it’s a lot though…

the-legend-of-korra

I spent my time for a minute
Trying to figure out ways to find myself up in this.
Sitting here surprised, amazed, up and did it.
Shifted my day to day scheduled more of my attention.
Worrying about the wrong things won’t get you closer to your vision.
Took a back seat, blurred lines, bright beams.
Mind stuck in the same place; not everything is what it seems.
Listened to your lies, made a mockery of me.
Going to forget it, been through worse made better.
When the going gets too tough, then too tough is what I’m getting.
Inspired ambition, not the best but still pushing.
Zoned out but still listening, thousand words paint a picture.
Can’t even understand it.
At birth already planned it.
Put myself out to be judged,
my name out to be slandered.
But.
Wait a minute, hold up.
Let me think, take a second, roll up.
And oh oh oh oh, it’s the fact that you know.
When it’s already yours.
Can’t believe that I’m sold, it’s a lot though.

Why I Oughta!!

….slap the s*** out of you.

People will push you, if you let them.

Disregard you, with intention.

Get upset at you, if you address them.

Then question what went wrong when it was them all along…..