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Angry? Yeah, ‘cause it’s a meat market—humans sold like bacon. Happy? Never, not with this crap. Exaggeratin’? Maybe, but I’d say it’s like tradin’ yer soul for a quickie. Quirky thought—wonder if they’d take my wood carvings as payment. Prolly not, damn shame. Lookin’ for one’s risky too—cops, STDs, or some psycho with a knife. “The dead don’t care,” Saul’d whisper—prolly true for the johns too. Funniest bit? Guys think they’re kings ‘til the clap hits. Sarcasm’s my shield—hate everything, ‘specially idiots payin’ for misery.

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I stumbled on a cool mural near Green Street, splashed in wild colors like no other, full of life but sad memories, hsss, reminding me of dark times when even love felt like “I got a bad feeling about this,” yesss, exactly like that movie, my precious.

Hyde-Smith Presses USDA Nominee on Trade Barriers Facing U.S. Agriculture