People say the only person, place or thing I care about is myself, I tend not to know anybodies business buy my own. But you see I'm facing everything and staring it straight in the eye and honestly I don't have time for anything else. My back is against the wall so sue me if I'm listening but all i hear about is myself. My whole life I've never been reliable, so the last few years I've bust my ass to be everything to everybody but shit... Sometimes I don't want to do shit, Some days... I look in the mirror and stare at the image until I start seeing that person I was on my way to becoming. Sometimes I even see the person I used to be. Am I lying to myself? I mean I feel like I'm the greatest person on earth and honestly I don't even lose a lick of sleep when I say the shit b/c I truly feel that it's a privilege to be in my presence. Then something in my world will bring me crashing down to the soil which is soaked w/ the blood of slaves, pimps and hard working people of this country.

More times than not it's a girl, some girl who claimed to love me but expected some sort of miracle man thought up by Eric Jerome Dickey, who wines and dines them and never has to go to work ever during the 300 plus page novel. But who am I to throw stones? I tend to see women and shift through them looking for the golden nugget in a pile of girlfriends, beyonce songs and porn flicks watered down in hoe polluted waste scientifically called H20. When the reality is that I don't know what's tomorrow going to hold. My Golden Ticket has now transformed into one of those cheap raffle tickets. The same as all the others. There is so much bullshit in life that you think the earth is a marble shoved up a cow's ass.

Up until last night when the hammer came down and knocked me out of my wonderful past reality of having shit all together, my golden ticket which once loved me enough to make everything else seem meaningless sprouted a mouth and told me I was a shark with a death grip on their ankle destined to bring them into the cold dark murky waters of life to devour them into pieces.

So I've come to the conclusion that my box is my prison, and that someone who will accept me for me will never come into picture that i must change some things. That true love doesn't exist, only giant sized rat traps w/ "kittens" for bait, pipe dreams and lemon pepper wings. My mind is focused on the evils of the world, and I am only one of Pavlov's Dogs drooling on my BCBG button up shirt every time someone waves a tender morsel in front of my face as they take notes off my reactions to master how to destroy The Heart of a MAN.