This is where I live, but this town is not my home Just a massive, hollow hole that I throw bullshit into From the dust, now asbestos, it’s probably best if I just move.
But I have thirty-two cents to my god damn name, and I’m not sensible enough to change anything. Because I’m not yet ready to fork over my dreams and eat from a silver spoon.
In this town, there’s too much room for mediocrity. Too much room for it all to get to me and it always does.
But, lately I’ve been on this drug and it keeps me sober and it makes me numb. And it’s called nostalgia. It’s called, “So long.” You can call it anything you want, but don’t you dare call it home….because it’s not.
If you throw a dog a bone, and then slap him in the nose, pry the teeth from his mouth, leaving canines alone Giving him a solid impression of what a wolf he once was just a sad, old dog with his paws in the mud and a mouthful of blood
because someone screamed, “Fetch!”
That’s what this place is to me. It takes the words out of my mouth and replaces them with a mouth full of cavities It takes a local music scene and turns the kids, from it, to junkies. It takes everything I have to keep myself composed but everyone in this fucking place knows
how good we used to have it, and that we might not ever have.
A weird guy with a camera around his neck most of the time. I'm the one that does the posting on this blog. You probably know me from YouTube, if you know me at all, and that sucks BOOKS: Depthless ✿ FANGS æ MORNING CIGARETTE ▲ Other Books ¿