fuck Sinatra…

listenin’…Chet Baker… lost soul…desperate voice…something to hold onto…awake…haunting…baby…fuck Sinatra…

hard times…hungry…cold…broads…just a smell at night as you lie awake…to dream i dare do not…

age isn’t pretty…drink isn’t beauty…heartbreak…well…heartbreak…

the artist’s life is ugly…marked with lines and dark circles unattended to…

midnight strolls… language heard in bars…crack-dens…tent cities…subway trains running from North to Southside…nodding off with nothing to your name but a belief in the next line…another note…the canvass awaits…

never bowing to authority…money isn’t the object…nor heaven…

get lost…just get lost…don’t look…i don’t wanna be found…

listenin’ to Chet Baker…haunting…

baby…fuck Sinatra…

Published by: dmseay

The writing is based on my surroundings and what I've been surrounded by. This language is coarse and politically incorrect; which I make no apologies for. These characters are not nice and to use any other dialogue would be disingenuine. That being said, I choose to roll the dice. dm seay

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