kickinglovers

I did not leave, I haven't gone anywhere. My hearty roamed the windy city like a feverish patient. I cannot leave, finance won't allow. So I sit. So I swallow. So... It just gets worse. A trailer park joint, hanging out on the corner with the kids from the roughest of vans. Smoking dirty crack and studying each others faces, past the dirt and grime.. for some kinda of recognition that we in our own world are cool. What to do but home to die someday soon. Its all so dirty, manufested with guilt. Pride has challenged my heart to a duel and my heart is hiding bhing my ribcage trembling with fear.