My prophecy is my tomorrow’s legacy. My inspirational cannabis has become an habit so I’m an addict to using tactics in my writings. The music is becoming realistic so I’m ignorant to the static above the melody. These parasites live off our only nutrient thereby making us loose our sight of what is right. My brothers are taking cheap flights to foreign lands in the hope of a good life. I strive hard so when I arrive in my grand style, they will smile and say the few of us that stayed tight in this city are still alive. We want a better tomorrow, so we will follow whoever takes us out of this hollow. Visions and missions creates repression of depression. An admission into progression is a clarification for their superstition. Lately, my view about life changed because I got engaged to facts about reality. I made an elude from the smoke-screen and made greens like my dreams. I’m all about veracity which is effected by my certainty. They say I’m hard headed but I will shut them up when I’m stack loaded. If I was in the time of the great minds, they would have erected a prestigious statue in my honour. I know my worth so I accurately select my caucus. We embrace bacchus in celebration because we made it out of tartarus. We remember the future in which we would no longer exist, so we admit as we assist ourselves to leave behind what they will permit others to use. If those before us thought about us, our world would have exceeded magnificently. Finally, I keep my journal in a safe place. One day, it will make its way to stay in the hand of a philanthropist someday.

I’m working for the money, so I made my carmel toe so costly. I remember days I bent my back for so long just because I had to pay the rent. The tears never erased the fear. Customers wished they could hit it like lovers but 3mins and it was over. I got sore sometimes because the soft walls tore. I hate the pleasure but it brought enough treasure to please me in my leisure time. I’m such an enigma, stuck with this stigma. I care less about what they think, I dress well to get more links. I never had the courage, so to get the work done, I needed the alcohol to stay long. The euphoria they expressed doubled the rage I felt. I’m always in a forlorn state but surviving made me realise the only power I needed was between my legs. Men are slaves to our labia majora, I believe its their only reason for feeling alive. I had no parents to build my foundation, so to me, family was a superstition. Several times I popped pills because more money allowed them go in unprotected. I always feel disgusted, especially when the condom in use got busted. Well, its the path I took to survive, a business I will do till I die, I’m an harlot, judge me if you like, I care not.