Today I'm wearing blue shorts in the rain. Thursday evening I bombed one of my favorite hills in San Francisco- 25th Avenue and Quintara. It leads to the beach where I threw my skateboard into the ocean. Having gotten my bathrobe, black jeans, belt, sweater, and windbreaker soaking wet in the process I threw them all on the corner of a street near a house with cacti in the front yard. At around 2am and wearing nothing but a camper bag, boxers, cool shoes, and a bart simpson t-shirt I bought a breakfast sandwich from a very gay Indian man named Happy. Two weird women bought chocolate and alcohol. The following morning I lied about my age and got breakfast from a place where hippies and punks go to get breakfast. I had a vegan burrito. Then I made art at a place where you can make art for free. Then I got the blue shorts I'm wearing from a homeless services place. And since that Friday I have been bothered by the following question- to wear pants or not to wear pants?
__________________
I spit bullets in my feet
Every time I speak
So I write instead
And still people want me dead
~msc
Last edited by GuD; 10-16-2016 at 03:59 PM.
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