Ah, Mau. Random pieces of poetry and imagery arent enough for you, are they? It's like if her beauty wasn't enough to turn you to shreds. It matters not how sober or how drunk you are, or how many women you have surrounding you, you just want the one.
I think you've come a long way, and that if you find the right one, you can chance into something you'lll take pride in instead of being what you can be ashamed for.
What I do wish is that people didn't play the emotional yo-yo game. That come-here-get-away type of shit. I can be direct about my things. I wish I found somebody that just felt the same way and that was able to just say things instead of playing that bitchy game.
I'm too tired for this.
Good Mau. Expendable Mau, that is. The paper stars mean nothing now. The art, the cigarrettes, the words, the stars... they are all gone with the wind, my friend. Fix yourself up. Life isn't getting any easier. You aren't getting any younger, Mau.
You aren't getting younger. You'll just have to watch others grow old.
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