This is my journal. There are many like it but this one is mine. Old habits die hard and every familiar street will only lead you home.
I'm an author. I'm a bastard. I'm a dreamer too.
As Thick as Thieves- in stores soon, but not soon enough.
Current works in progress include a screenplay (finished), a possible short story/novel (finished), and other random bits and pieces (including 13 episodes of a cartoon of which I'm three deep. I want to create a world of my own, my own universe where everything slowly links together. Just wait and see.
My city's still breathing (but barely it's true) through buildings gone missing like teeth. The sidewalks are watching me think about you, sparkled with broken glass. I'm back with scars to show. Back with the streets I know Will never take me anywhere but here. The stain in the carpet, this drink in my hand, the strangers whose faces I know. We meet here for our dress-rehearsal to say " I wanted it this way" Wait for the year to drown. Spring forward, fall back down. I'm trying not to wonder where you are. All this time lingers, undefined. Someone choose who's left and who's leaving. Memory will rust and erode into lists of all that you gave me: a blanket, some matches, this pain in my chest, the best parts of Lonely, duct-tape and soldered wires, new words for old desires, and every birthday card I threw away. I wait in 4/4 time. Count yellow highway lines that you're relying on to lead you home.