I have written a tragedy down below where the pretty boys come to die. Although, I'm spitting phrases of nothing to save myself the embarrassment of apology. The caption read, "Danger" silly boy, "You've got to know when to stop." It's just life lessons disguised as defeat. Dear God, it's happened again. It's a chemical war. A stagnant bore. Compensates for the marathon of a weekly routine, these bones can't take much more. Not quite a tragedy. Vacant streets, ninety-degree heat and this time I've caught fate by the wings and if she screams it's curtains for the dead. This town is on fire and I'm on the hills smiling and laughing knowing that my life has just begun.

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