A Dusty Dresser of Originality

I can’t be Hemingway or a Hunter S. Thompson.
I read them and somehow dream of Gonzo stories flowing from my well
-To become a representative of the 21st century and create my own words and philosophies.

I must find my own heartbreak
And not just reiterate
-my own laughter
-my own tears
-my own shotguns and wild turkey.
I must become my stories and also find a way for them not to devour me viciously.

I will become the streets I walk
And the bars I haunt.
-I will be more than the story
-I will be more than a whisper on an answering machine at 4am in your ear
-I will find my own crazy and define it to you
-I will mix my addictions and perceptions into unfettered originality

My life tonight is just a poetic note on an abandoned house dresser.
A life as a resemblance and as a forgetfulness of better days all the same.

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