mikey0music

Writing writing writing. Everything and in between. Thinking late night fueled by diet mountain dew and Shell Silverstien. Running ramped in my mind are the thoughts of how I say to you how I feel to you how I choose to curve my lips and pronounce what I am and what I clearly am not. Inhale. Breathe out into the darkness as smoke curls and morphs into the universe. First thought: Tattoos "The tattoo is a mark of the soul. It can act as a window. Through which one can see inside, or it can be a shield to protect us from those who cannot see past the surface." A theory trickling through my mind is the one of which explaining my tattoos

I find myself walking down this nostalgic path. The emotions that follow on my heels are almost unbearable. From a young age sex was something I never quite understood, was never properly explained to me, I was the one of those few spared of an awkward conversation or 2 about reproduction. Rather, I was set in front of a television. If i do recall I even remember the program in hand that was meant to educate me involved Oprah (explains a lot) and perhaps Prince... once again, if my memory serves me that is. At the age of 14 or 15 I had discovered a new urge within myself that constantly needed fulfillment, although by no means was I unawar