Kris Kidd

The homeless dudes on Alameda all have legs any runway model would kill for, and sometimes I think of giving them money, but_ I don__ know, I__e got bills to not pay, and drinks to make people buy for me.

Drugs may know how to numb a brain, but the past never forgets to resurface.

I gave them everything I had, and I guess it feelsalright.I gave them my body,and they use it every night.

You give the shirt off your back, no questions asked, and you stand alone at the cavernous mouth of your suburban closet__our entire life spent wonderingwhere your clothes went.

See, that__ the thing about L.A._ When you__e mastered the art of feeling lonely in a room full of people, that__ when you know.

Repression is dangerous. It makes anvils of memories and drops them from impossible heights when you least expect it.

When you__e finally finished crying, I hope you run as fast and as far as you possibly can from me. When you land, out of breath, and I__ finally out of sight, finally out of mind, you__l be honestly fine. All wounds will be healed. All fires will be extinguished. I__l be a memory. Feel free to repress me.

I love like a beaten child and I trust like an addict.

I think it__ imperative that we continue confusing light with meaning. That__ how the human race evolves. Someone sees a light, names it God, goes toward it, goes up in flames. Same goes for moths. We__e all animals. There__ nothing revolutionary about evolution. The process itself relies solely on stupidity. We fuck up in the hopes that future fuckups will learn from us.

I__e memorized the best angles in the bathroom mirror from which to see how badly I__e disintegrated. I truly do go from sixty to zero.

I dye my jeans jet black once a week, but they never seem dark enough. I bleach my hair bright white twice a month but it never seems light enough. I drink two and a half bottles of champagne every night but I never seem drunk enough. And I know I__ not high enough until someone grabs my face to check my vision to see if I__ still responsive_ And even then, I__ thinking to myself that I should probably do one more line, you know, just to be safe.

In the mirror I stand, an injured deer in headlights, or maybe high beams, judging by the way my eyes water. I measure my wrists with my fingers, and I clutch at my rib cage, fingering it languidly, tracing the rise and fall of sharp bones until my heartbeat slows, and I dream of a faraway ocean.

The piece of you that loves a part of me tries its best to hold onto the rest,but my heart is a thousand-piece puzzle of a faraway galaxy, deep purple,colors blending together and impossible to place.

It isn__ easy,_ is easy to say and sometimes I think that the only thing we can dois say really easy things to each other.

You ask yourself when you__l learn, and the answer is always,__omorrow.

You burn bright and you burn hard, like a fire in a dumpster,and nobody is so worriedabout you burning as they are worried about the fire spreading.

Sunrise is starting to feel like a guilt trip.

You are only as deepas the ashtrays you use. You only stick around because you like the abuse.