Addiction is a killa- I think as I lite another ciggerette and sip caffine. But, these are mornings I can live with. Waking up with no agenda, only progress. Maybe finaly plant myself an occupation. Fall into some new routine- cook some pigs, hang some bells, simpily race some rats. God, I love cheese. But I relish in the taste of freedom.
I stowed away on a slave ship before. Trying to escape a land I saw unfit. Scared of the real world - I went underground. But, didn't enjoy the taste of dirt. So, I grinded my chains weak against concrete bricks at a Cathloic Hospital in downtown Hell. It was unsettling to hear the African healers say " Womans strife is drastic!"; in thier own tribal language that i so beautifully admired. It was so heavy that i prayed, so hard, while staying up all night. Staring out at digital hoorahhs, broadcast so bright it released my mind from the pain. I imagined myself strong and free enough to skate on the Devils ice, gliding effortlessly over the cold below without ever taking a plunge.
Now, i love the rattle of my bones as i walk. I stride the city with a 'shake- rattle- and roll'. Nodding to all the DB's and casually saying, "NAH"!
I find comfort in this. They can see a slave coming from a mile away. A constant reminder of where the wrong turn can leave. But, I'm no stranger to this foreign land. I wear the remnants like fabric of Judah on my sleeve. Don't fuc with me, I'm jaded! 
Wolves dressed as the most gentlest Sheep offer me tickets to reboard. They got em' right in thier pocket..But I got NO qualifications for being a sheppard. Catholics are always dying to be martyrs. NEWS FLASH- You are NOT the sacrifical Lamb! It would kill me to watch your mother pray! My Ma prays quietly. But i learned to SHOUT. Most people just pray to a screen on thier couch. I guess I'm gonna go kill my TV...