I hate myself.
How much do you hate you?
on a scale from six to story!
bloodshed the Brooklyn I bitch about.
Our hero will never turn around.
my heart is caving in on Bedford Ave.
thinking about drinking in Orlando.
but it's nice to see your'e moving on.
I know it's hard to carry forth.
and it never what it never was.
You got motion inside.
you're wild in your stride.
so tell me the story in your specific general everything.
I have been riding the Rumbler all night.
with hurt shoulder.
listening to don't you know.
loud.
I wish my tattooed hands.
were given the glimpse of your body.
one more time.
so I can make a stand.
Our miserable silliness.
is more than bullets or skillets.
so we can all be poets in perfect silence.
and fuck each other and forgive each other,
while...
nevermind.