Rotting in Aurora

I light a Marlboro 72, and contemplate the slow suicide I call a life. I'm a booster, a pro thief. I make a living stealing either shit i can sell, or return for a store credit card that I can sell.

I slam dope, 1.7 grams a day when possible. I smoke cigarettes like crazy, I always have one clamped between my teeth. I exist mostly on mountain dew and stolen snickers bars.

I live each day as it comes to me. I used to plan everything, budget everything, and all it did for me was wear me out and piss me off. Life is so much simpler now, I just dont worry about things.

My family worries about me, they say I'm too wild, to reckless, to close to the edge, but the edge is the only place I can find that her memory cant find me as easily.

I wonder if I should just pick up and leave this place just like I left Kansas. I left behind a better life there than I have here, thats a fact.

There I left my friends, my dog, my beautiful girlfriend who I thought loved me, here I leave behind nothing except the family I feel trapped in.

Its tempting, maybe if I had wheels I'd leave, but with no money and no car the prospect of a road trip is far less tempting.

I suppose I'll just stay here in Aurora and rot.