nights and days strung together by guitar strings, we swayed through san francisco today, got lost with the wide eyed, roamed rocking camcorders, we shot short films, and snapped every second we got in half.

tonight, beat and tired, feel as it i got sliced in half and somehow quickly stitched back together before anyone noticed. saggy, i've got a voltron house party on the inside of my skin but my body's calling the cops. maybe it's the dope dinner's fault: go to the "house of nanking" on kearny and jackson and tell the owner to "take care of you."