awww the way this city smells in the summer. the odors of sticky bodies, and the urinary excrement of those of less fortune (or just a fortune of a different kind?) permeate the streets. this city is too windy in the winter, and too stagnant in the summer. aww but its home.

its home. something is missing. maybe it always was. there are flies in the air, the tribal yearnings of the crack heads and street ghosts, still something is missing.

and the artifacts of the internet turn me on. while art bores me and the newspaper is boring. oh but lets split this spliff and fuck. we can pretend we are in a video game, baybay.
dunt worry, the sky isn't the limit its the sky scraper ...cuz that thing cuts. nothing can cut the internet, can it?