He's Going To Graceland, Despite Himself

I don'know me...no one ever asked who really knows me either. *
Am I so drenched in compliments that I fuss at the lack
Is it just the mystery of understanding that there is no mystery
Aren't we the same...

I wanna be Paul Simon, I wanna be Patti...

Ashing a fuckimg horrible cigarette on a benign offering of white crackers and white cheese..

Man, I try to be normal...my daughter blowing bubbles, and my mind warping

Everything is a prism..water on my cigarette.

Last One..he's going to Graceland.

*an addendum, wrote in strife, cups, and sleeplessness...