a tourist, a traveller, a vagabond, a vagrant. those are the steps along the journey up the ladder of insanity. a flagrant adulation to vanity. decision after next made without a trace of clarity. haphazard scampering around the carousel without guidance. without sense, rhyme, or reason. just for the heck of it, just for the fuck of it. joining the circus and getting in line. taking a number. life in a slumber. every past action – those that i remember – every transgression, every last session and every last place. they all now just seem lost in space. a naught in thought. smudged and faded, lost in a hue. making you wonder: was it all true?
a purist. drinking rum and snorting cocaine like a tourist. time for a marlboro – one after the other – like there’s no tomorrow, and today is borrowed. what the hell let’s kill this bottle and make an effort to drown our sorrows. it’s all a big gamble and all a big game. no need to feel shame. don’t ramble trying to make sense of a spread only ever meant to be sampled. relax, just breath. enjoy. let’s amble through the nooks and crannies of this goodness-gracious-me-incredible-fucking situation. a life in motion, in action, in flow: overflowing with emotion. with elation, satisfaction and devotion. attention. attraction. no sense in cowering, there’s no need to hide. stop chasing shadows and enjoy the ride.