I walked past this girl today. And I thought… she looks how I feel. I’d write more, but truth be told, I can barely hear myself think over the racket of the television next door.
Complete with bird-shit spunk stains.
It’s one extreme to the other with me.
I don’t know why I’m even doing it.
It’s gone from being curious to multiple men in one night.
And this city is getting too full of bad memories.
I feel like I’ve fucked up and I need to change.
That girl was never supposed to be me.
The cigarettes have gone in the river,
Though it took several attempts because the wind was blowing so hard in the wrong direction.
Anyway, she’s photoshopped obviously, the girl.
She’s by the museum.
Never noticed her before.