written by owen

I haven't been the same since I went to that beach, far, far away. The hot sand beneat my feet, wind in my hair. It started to get to me, prudence was never my clean suit, I had to get out. Cream and bastards. I am at the point where people keep asking what makes me special, what stars direct my faith, the circle on which I run about. Wanting me to sell myself like a lady of the night. Quixotic about this thing called reality. Malcontent, a ghost in a shell. Truth is, I really never saw myself as special in anyway, I enjoy the madness, we are all the same, just doing enough to get by. I see myself as a product of my environment, the fifth car in a train wreak. Hey Jude. Each person I know bringing me closer an closer to perfection. Each being a part of my puzzle, having a specific purpose. I am never the same unless you are there.

I love my mother. She brings forth the supplication. I went to the dentist, only because it will give me pain, something to write about. Last time I was there 6 years ago, he left my teeth in a state of unrest. I'll be fine as long as somebody takes me home - everynow and then. The price doubled to 4000 JMD and the pain somewhat reduced to random miscalculations of her air powered tool of pain. Now the student had become the teacher. The feeling like I had a stroke as I lost control of my jaw muscles, a combination of water and saliva ran down my cheeks, unto my neck as she pressed my head against her breast.

Its hard for me to define myself. I'm somewhere between unsure and a hundred. Its like asking a tomato why its red or why the sun shines and then explodes. There is only some many words we can say; hello, goodbye. You asking me will my love grow? I don't know, I don't know. I'm a revolving door.

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