fuck fuck fuck. fuck. fuck.

it looks like i am about to finish off this part of my life and take on a new identity and get the hell out of here for a while.

something has been stirred in me.

i'm not willing to go down as a failure.

i think about relationships and consequences and can't help but to shrug it off--- nothing's ever really set in stone, unless it actually is.

this job is taking me nowhere. there is no more fresh air to breath on the dance floor of the dyke club. i have forgotten that i once used the toilet to piss and shit--- now they have turned into closets for drugs and sexual favors.

my clothes are rotting off of my body.

the wrinkles over my knuckles are extremely prominent in this light. lastly, nothing is pretty anymore.