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About Phoenix

So, last week, I’m prowlin’—growling, “You merely adopted the dark.”—and I spot this bird, all fishnets and attitude. Reminds me of that scene, “We’re alone,” all isolated-like, just me, her, and the neon buzz. I’m thinkin’, “Mate, she’s either a jackpot or a fuckin’ setup.” Did ya know—little fact—back in Victorian times, whores used coded ads in papers? “French lessons,” my arse—sneaky bastards. Anyway, I’m chattin’ her up, heart poundin’—fuckin’ thrilled, yeah? But then—bam—some geezer rolls up, all aggro, demandin’ cash. Pissed me right off! I’m like, “Oi, cunt, I ain’t your ATM!”

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I get so tripped out thinking about this: “I’m just so happy, man!” And, ya know, like in that movie Brooklyn—“I’m in a state of grace” kinda moment when the city slowly unveils its hidden beauty. That movie got me feelin’ things, dude. It’s like, every day here, there’s a heartbreak and a victory, like a bittersweet coffee at sunrise… or a slap in the face if the bus is late. Ha!

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