yankkrime

Downtown Manhattan on a Tuesday at two in the afternoon. It's Christmas time, I'm sick, and can't seem to stop coughing. I couldn't care less about the season or it's festivities. I might be lying to myself, but I'm giving that lie more effort than I've ever given any lie before. I'm in the backseat, slow through traffic. Watching dvd's on my laptop, I can't get over the genius humor of Arrested Development, or my perverse thoughts for Maybe. My scarf is strangling me, and the fat fingers steering the car next to me make me feel like things will be alright. Cigarettes are cheaper when you've got secrets- No one tells you. No one advertises it. But keep something hidden. Don't tell a soul, and on my word; At every turn you'll be showered with gifts of tobacco. If you're not a smoker, it's alright. When you're in prison, they're like dollar bills. When you're homeless they're like gold chains. The trophies of forturne. When you've got secrets, the cigarettes are cheaper. When you've got secrets, you've got nothing but time. When you've got secrets you will always end up behind bars, on the streets. No duties. No job. No society to contribute to. You're left with your secrets and your cigarettes, and your fat fucking fingers that hold your tiny tubes of tobacco while you look for someone to tell. When secrets are all you have, at least you've got tobacco. I stole gum from my sister. I stole a shirt from a store in a mall. I fucked someone I didn't care about. I get high alone. I pray. I've still got secrets, and a goddamn lot of cigarettes. Big ups to A. Kapps. When you're this pretty you can keep everything a secret.