les journees a n'en plus finir...

looking forwards the day .. that's exactly what i do .. i run if i have too. i still hate th eweather like crazy . when i see you time doesn't matter. we do nothing and it's somehow fun... super-fun. simple. i talk and then you do it too. different. but i look tall, i look like the don't fuck with me type of girl. but you lead me where you go, when you go nowhere i follow. you don't know. i do.
back home i write, eat a little then find scotch.. my friend lady pirate of montreal said so, if whyskey hasn't kiled me by now, it never will. that's right .. i listen to amazing music.. i do little else. i don't bother jerking the day away. when i sleep by your side it's all there is. all i need.
i hope you will tell me.. what you want from me...
it's incredible how much i worry for what ill do, work. i need money. but then i act on it, and find enough to survive. survive. not really i have a roof, steal enough old clothes to dress up like january all year long. but truly i wanna sleep in sweat, half naked and smoke cigarettes to the twilight of this city ... it's a fact , i smoke too much, and i truly like it. i don't feel sick, i am sick of way more then that. cigarettes are fine, just just fine . soone i will be returning to Montreal the real beloved, for fun and unfinish fun ... then fucking return here . i am in a better living situation here , but i am far from convinced.
of course i should be diving through all of the past , in words and more, but i am not in the mood. i am always in th emood for writing more. more ccrap and elaborate my brain in typo.
i like algorythm if it will save my career .. what career, the pirate one, the one where you shall care less about the rules.

i should think about legit, say j. but now i think of making it through the grey, i love silver, but lately the greys are ugly as fuck .

sur ce je vous souhaite la plus belles des soirees.