tattoos, for sure, and raves.
who could live without raves?
nobody worth talking to.
but what was his PLAN?
have to get a job, or at least get money.
raves are so fucking expensive.
he strums on his guitar,
he doodles on some paper.
he writes.
he reads.
he thinks.
who needs an artist?
that's all he was ever going to be,
nothing more.
could a normal job fulfill him?
would he survive one?
he started thinking of ways to promote his new band.
he wrote a song.
he fell asleep to the radio.
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