I miss hanging out with this one crackwhore under the bridge in portland. I think i miss her the most about portland, i used to go smoke ciggarettes with her and she'd talk to me about how she'd met jesus in a bar, and how jesus likes to party too. and this other whore down there, she had one leg cause one of her tricks kicked her out of a moving car. I used to write poetry for them and bring them ciggarettes and a few dollars so they didn't have to suck dick for their crack,
The one with one leg was this brilliant artist, I was going to get togethor enough money to buy one of her paintings but then i wandered to california and the devil got me. I miss those whores so much today.
Love, Lily
The one with one leg was this brilliant artist, I was going to get togethor enough money to buy one of her paintings but then i wandered to california and the devil got me. I miss those whores so much today.
Love, Lily
but then she didn't die for long and now when i see her its like she is a ghost to me because i know she was dead.
but then again. she is dead kinda.
but she had this singing voice that made me hurt and this other thing that only crackwhores know too that i don't talk about in fear of saying too much. but it was mostly that voice.
i think she's in alburqueque. and i don't know how to spell that.
lately i've been threatening crackheads a lot, for trying to walk into my house and things like that. i fear that one day i will hurt one of them. i understand that they don't know any better and that they really have nothing to lose, but still. they make me so mad.
yet then also i wonder why i write to someone like this.