Bonnie and Clyde

Hotel...motel...im on the road again, thinkin of life and how to live it.

Now that this is a "real" blog and im allowing myself to speak without the metaphorical marbles in my mouth lemme tell u that I love blogs and blogging and bloggers but I think my fave time in this whole shindig was when raymi and anti got together at her b-day party and ran away to a hotel and stayed in the hot tub for days "not letting real air touch our skin" as r put it. Werd...im not tryin to be sentimental or unearth some buried beef, but back then I was hittin their sites like a crackhead hits the glass dick...the end of the day came and id go home, deal with home shit, spark a philly and puff out the bathroom window, waiting till the stress that paralyzed my joints lifted off me in the clouds of smoke that i blew into the inner courtyard of the building that i lived in, where apartments stacked up all around me as far as the eye could see, like a panopticon or a scene from Brazil, and in the kitchen the dishes were waiting and on the table there were bills to be opened, and in my mind the clock kept ticking, cuz all i had were five minutes, five minutes to myself, getting high by the window where the early evening light shimmered on the sill like cobwebs as i let my pants fall around my ankles and i dont know if it was cuz the two of them are hot like bonnie and clyde or if the idea of freedom was even hotter but i'd touch myself till i came with a hurried, half-pleasant shudder that was usually followed by a few tears.

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