I need a life. I feel like a ******** beatnik. My nights are spent over my keyboard, with a cigarette hanging out of my mouth, eyes watering from the smoke, trying to combat my writer's block.
I've got the poems. I've got the mentallity, I've got some cool blue shades. Now all I need is some bongos, a funky beard, and a cool hat.
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The Journal that was too cool for a title.
It's too cool for a title
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I'm goddamned monumentagious.
I want to mix our blood and put it in the ground
So you can never leave...
I want to mix our blood and put it in the ground
So you can never leave...