New York, July,
Sun, so bright..
Knees weak..
Arms spaghetti..
The trash, too much seafood, it reminds me of her..
The trash seems to be living... Or is it just the odor moving..?
Please, it screams
Trash:Please take me out! I cannot take this anymore!
I was too lazy.. Seafood.. It reminds me of her.. Of her..
