it's midnight. july 2nd. who cares that i wasn't born at midnight.

porn. cigarettes. lotto.

i love everyone who has come and visited me. even some people that haven't. there are so many people i'm thankful for. a lot of you are real swell. thanks.

full tilt, kids. full tilt.

infection-prone, singing the blues, i am on the market for a new throat. sick again, for the fourth time in two months and i did not tell doctor about blood in my saliva.

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i love you smarty jones!

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central park. hiding out in the treecover, i've been waiting for this storm for two years. i can smell the rain, lightning in my fillings, i dont ever need to speak again. looking hard. there are so few people i care about, the others cut themselves down. i couldnt care less.


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i was just watching the awesome storm thats going on outside.
i took a picture of lightning. well i guess not really of a bolt but i got my back window view illuminated.
thunder comes first then lightning. no lightning then thunder. there is always rain

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haha i have so many secrets, and all of a sudden i realize how fucking awesome that is.

everything is rocks in my stomach. i don't care.
foward lean. construct, deconstructing:

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