dawn

It’s not every day, that you see a man fuck up his own entertainment… You mother-fuckers have ruined the internet for me. But it’s fine, I wasn’t that attached to it to start with.

I drive miles and miles, Then I check into a hotel in a foreign city… I see a man, with a younger woman walking a few steps ahead of him… Oh! I’ve seen this dynamic, that’s her pimp. That’s the cat that wheels and deals, and the girl that does the work…

Fuck my story, what’s HER story?

And there it is.. Time will do what it does, there’s no need to waste feelings on your enemies , because time will get to them eventually.

The idea that the mental can’t benefit from therapeutic psychedelics? balderdash. Bipolar? Schizophrenic? Only on paper. I’ve been as high as a person can be, I promise. And I would gladly spend $15k on an endeavor that could potentially re-write who the fuck I am, I swear it.

I can take anything, right on the chin. You want to talk about “threshold for pain?” you don’t know who you’re speaking to. I had my tongue pierced with a sewing needle behind a gas station, I had my eyebrow pierced with an oversized safety pin in a motel room, I take pain like no-one else.No-one.And I still-fucking-stand. “the will to survive”

I would swallow the horror, I would relive every moment of trauma, every cut, every impact. I would stand there and take it on the fucking chin, like a man… because that’s what you do.

Another good phrase, “mother-fucker you don’t know me”

Yeah… that sums it up.

But it doesn’t matter, oh no, of course we understand that. Just a guy sitting Indian style in a hotel room, typing the fuck away.

Ugly, but “real”.

It’s fine. I like what I like and I kill what I focus on. As it has always been.