How can I be racist when I live with a rescued black cat with green eyes since many years.
Motherfuckers—drinking and smoking to try to release the pain so you can do art and wine about it.
There are some people who fix their problems and some others who drink them, and the ones who drink them make fun of the others who fix them.
When you close something and you hear yourself say; “What a bitch,” because there is no nice way to say we’re closed.
I am not working for you people; I am working for me, and to help the people—get that shit right.
Look at this finger and come here, smell it it’s clean, now let me tell you a secret; “In every neighborhood in the whole world we all know who the hoes are—and I am not one of them.”
Girl those fake eyes, boobs, nails, hair and lashes need to be left home and under your bed; in case anyone wants to fuck plastic—ok.
Do I look like I want to.
“Yesterday, I’ve bonded with the cat a little more,” I am only quoting myself because I want to make you jealous; so, are you jealous now.
Yes we’ve all been there, yes we’ve all done it, and yes we’ve all needed to, at some point, but now count me out because the truth is coming out; google search that shit.
When you grow old, and it doesn’t need its look anymore; so sorry babe you killed it.
When the name droppers use their profession as a mean to prey on the younger crowd—we know who you are.
Why an office building next door would use the windows facing people’s homes; I mean, IS IT ME OR WHAT.
Here’s to anyone who might start going off slandering my name that I’m in any way, shape, or form copying another person’s work; I will defend myself in court—with proof, truth, reason, and logic. See you there.
When you don’t fit in a place and nobody let you know; it is like walking around town all day, years around, with a booger stuck on your face, and you’re wondering what is wrong with the world when unbeknownst to you, you were the joke of the place—motherfuckers.
Anyone can do art, but not everyone is an artist.
Bear this message,
A journey from overseas,
Marks the milestone of partners in crime;
“Fetch my bone, bring my cup, and let us be in peace.”
When you have been sexually abused, and by the wrong gender; I mean, after this car crash you’re still taken into an emergency room but instead of cutting for themselves a big toe they are chopping you out the whole leg.
“Because of your childhood,” because I wouldn’t have had an objection, rather, if women’s bodies were taking turns on top of me.