The mountain ain't been out in days and I've spent these afternoons in a haze with shit across my face. Tomorrow brings a chance of rain and a chance I'll find a better way to say the things that I have got to say. A better way to face these aching days in this aching city amidst these assholes, shills and liars. How do I grow? To what do I aspire? Hold my feet up to the fire. This vacant vagrant's uninspired, fucking up and fucking tired.
*Daybreaker*
Aw fuck. Sixth or seventh time November's given me to get this right and I'm hard-up, despairing and despised. I'll try to keep it all together despite these dirty clothes and empty cans on the floor, adjourned awakenings and flights out the door. Half dead and wide awake for days...but I've got some cigarettes with me, so let's walk down to Pike Street and drag these anxieties through broken bottles and cold concrete and oil-stained puddles at our feet. I've got some cigarettes with me, so let's smoke them on the beach. We'll watch the airplanes scream through rain falling softly on the sea.
