My life's a mess.
Yeah, messier than my pubes.
Convoluted as my guts

I am complex
I live in intrigue, danger, poverty
Where life is mostly dirrty, raw and only for the present

I am a peasant
Who's only wealth are my dreams woven from cigarette puffs
My ideals remain intact, unwashed as the jeans I've worn for weeks

I am wasted
I see life thru my drunken glazed eyes
Fragmented thoughts of pieced together memories

Dare enter my maze?
Each encounter is a surprise, no expectations
Just pure exploration in the dark.

No comments: