week 9: stir

i had an elaborate idea for this one but... life got in the way

so instead of me drawing out what i would have drawn...


some of my earliest memories were that of my mother stirring soup, and that i was one of three, my second was my sister, a partner in crime and we told our youngest and  redheaded sister over and over that the floating pieces of parsley, if that what it was in lipton soup, was poison.

she, the red headed sister, has since become a doctor and still rarely goes near soup.

that is not something im proud of.


then there was the day that i was told that my father killed himself...
and that was the day, night actually that i drank my first cup of coffee.

what would follow will be known as the dennys years...

where i just nursed coffee while i drew.
and the ever present waitress fucking up my cream to sugar to coffee ratio buy topping it off.

yes, she was doing her job well, in theory, but i had told them all not to, nobody listens.

thats when i decided and learned to drink coffee black.

that said

i would like to share

a song i wrote

been looking back a thousand breaths
or so it seems
in search of signs of change, in me

but all i am's a cigarette
closer to death
but that's enough for me these days

been thinking about the memories
of times we shared
albeit briefly
all of these they slowly fade away

of promises we never had
the chance to keep
how typical, but
but nonetheless how
all the same.

and that's all
that's left
of me
now that youre gone
thats all thats left of me
your knowing eyes
and pouting lips
there's so more much i'll know i'll know i miss
you're everything that i wished i could be.

capricious youth now fades away
has left me here to my dismay
has shown me what a...

...fucking fool i've been.

and that that's all
i take
with me,
now that we're done
and that all
i take
with me

and maybe now im grownig up
but growing up so hard to do

and maybe now im moving on 
but doing thats so hard to to do
and maybe now i'm letting go
and maybe i can let you know

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