I don'know me...no one ever asked who really knows me either. *
Am I so drenched in compliments that I fuss at the lack
Is it just the mystery of understanding that there is no mystery
Aren't we the same...
I wanna be Paul Simon, I wanna be Patti...
Ashing a fuckimg horrible cigarette on a benign offering of white crackers and white cheese..
Man, I try to be normal...my daughter blowing bubbles, and my mind warping
Everything is a prism..water on my cigarette.
Last One..he's going to Graceland.
*an addendum, wrote in strife, cups, and sleeplessness...
