A wondering mind
My eyes are filled with tears, I have been too busy for myself even disrespecting the art I love so much, not writing schooling got me twisted but my bipolar got me fucked up. Am not a perfect woman, have never been, my head hurts and my keypad stops happens when the drugs aren't there no more. Dorathy Parker and Hemingway told me writers were alcoholics, that shit got migraines blow my head up, early in the mornings when I wake up. I get so frustrated my arts aren't even appreciative enough, the pain killers wants more enough, while the prescriptions for my depression makes me wail out when am not on them. My eyes twitching it needs to stop, rehab is a fucked up situation, sex questions don't need no answers from this therapists who think they know too much. Another section at councillor unit, I wonder what advice they have to offer again, maybe just a couple of shits they do too and always tell others not to.
Excerpts from my up coming story.
I got you I know but you pay for it, lol.
Excerpts from my up coming story.
I got you I know but you pay for it, lol.
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