27 April 2012
It hurts. Really badly. We're is the morphine dealers when you need them? Pass the ganja give me da pills and knock me a shot. Anything to make me like my old self.
Seriously now I can endure but I don't have to be happy. So no poems from me for a while. When the pain stops the poem starts.
Ohh can I call myself a struggling suffering artist now? xD
Dental Issues. • Opuss № I