Drunken NightsSpelling gets worse,Words get better.
American IdiotI look around the mass of writhing bodies, where people share souls and drink spirits and drown in the thick air. It's mine. I've built this world where the wrong come to gloat, the good come to die, and the dead come to inhabit. Angels come to indulge in the sin and forget what they have to do tomorrow and just be alone or together. I watch the lights, see them slide through the crowd, not a patronizing glare. The girls with daddy problems wouldn't be there if the light were so judging. They get that enough at home or are finally tired of it. There are never enough drinks but always too much. You can smell it in the air. The smell of freedom. Indulge. That's what I say. We live our whole life as children, being told what we can and cannot do. Then there's us who fight the undead politicians that plague our city and our world. You could just lose your mind. Go insane, positively mad. In our world we move as one and no one has a problem. Our world. My world. It's mine, no one else's. I
SixWordStories: Love"Is this Love?"Yes"No."Lies