you've tried on dreads, feminism, and barista. i still don't know how someone who changes their identity is always the same to me. you are part of something called truth. a word i still can't define, sort of like you. waiting for a four word piece of art to remain on you always, you neglect to remember you remain forever, just by existing to these people. temporarily stuck in a sleepy town, with your eyes wide open, your heart beating fast, like a bull at the gate, and sadly we have realized the world is sometimes a ***** red blanket you want to take down. but once you make it through, this wall of comfortability and lack of resonance, you will find miracles. maybe not now, or five million words from now, you might realize that you are of much more importance than you ever thought you were. so while you survive off a caffeinated IV, and enchanting rock and rollers, i will attempt to mentally record the life of a legend who will go to the grave, denying they were even a legend at all.