Thirty

cents in my pocket last week, a dollar this week, 

not enough gas to make it to moms for lunch, had to take the bike to church and to moms for lunch.

Fuck you.

Fuck you.

Fuck you.

Yelling and screaming on here and putting myself in such dire straits that people ask about me is my only recourse and I'm fucking sick of it!

Bro Joe looked at me and asked if I was sick.

Yeah, I am, of all of this.

Sick of everything.
Lost everything.
Nothing left to loose if you know what I mean.