Spotify is steadily kicking my Friday night.
And my longing leaves me with nothing to do but look and weight.
I got cleaning products built up for my weekend.
Of borrowing a home again.
I try to do my part.
I try to keep my art Hipstamatic.
A place that I thought.
That I would never be.
My earbuds rip out of my ears.
In this comfortable place.
And I am so tired.
Of being wrong.
Paranoia in my gills.
Will you love me still?
You don't even read this shit anymore?
Fuck secrets.
But if love is a game, baby, I am worried.
Keep going, slowing down so to meet you.
I love eating peppers with ya.
And I got nothing to offer, so here we go.