before a show, i hide. i don’t want to be seen. i don’t want to be talked to. i set myself up then go where ever it is i can to be where no one else is. i’d rather sit underneath a table and be left alone. i’m too hard to make conversation with. i’d rather not be stared at like i should die. then i get on with it, make a mess. spit. yell. brake what ever i want. then it’s over and i can leave myself on a filthy stage. the more i do this the more i see, absolutely nothing else matters.
home away from home. six hours till homestead limbo. felt sick for days. never dripped sweat so hard in my life. muscles ready to give. bones aching for my bed. icthus, you were kind for a moment then you broke me down by the hour.
lone cub, forever.
july 1st. summer heat. lost friends. special day tomorrow. lone cub.
