Moll (mollith) wrote,


You gotta be mad real, yo.
I'm lost now, not because I want nothing. Yes, Inna. I want something. I know I'm meant for something. The reason behind the mental and emotional strain is because I'm driven, hard driven, I cannot locate the focal point of my path. It's still far away right now, and what's detering me is that I'm near sighted. The path is infront of me, but because I can't see the end I panic.

his hands are shaking, and he pulling butts out of the sand. Finger nails are black beneath black. His clothes smell like old, and he's begging. Not me. He just pleading. The expression on his face is pleading. Two or three half smoked ones he adds to a box he found somewhere. I give me two whole ones.
"thank you! oh, god, I'm sorry. I'm real sorry."
He could have gotten down on his knees, my memory recorded it that way. Maybe he didn't. But in this moment I felt myself not as a person. He didn't thank me, he thanked something outside of me. I felt myself as a servant of god.

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