this one's gonna be about sexxxxxxxxxx and drugssssss and viiioooolence of which I know nothing cause it's been 19 years now and ain't no rockin' and no one's knocking on my door asking for a taste of me and the fifth grade terror-run from Jose was the most violence I've been a apart of and I got inside before he caught me so I'm left with drugs to cool me down it's too cool to smoke pot but I do it anyway and I've seen shapes slide over my eyeballs before because I swalllowed something that makes you see things over your eyeballs but when you do the math (and I do) you get: no violence plus no sex plus few drugs equals a non-entity someone without genuine pain without real longing or desire a non-artist trying his best to make something of his memories you got me: forcing my life into a poem that sparks with bitterness and an general fuck you too attitude dude, this ain't happenin' so I'm ending it right....
Reason for writing:
not sure
Birth sign: Not entered
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