I'm having a hard time adjusting to this modest amount of fame... I think I prefer infamy...
Sometimes the spotlight can feel like a black hole...
The writer before G-d. The supplicant. G-d is really only another artist. And we are mere two parts of the same conversation. Sometimes in agreeance. Sometimes in opposition.
It started raining as we walked in tonight... I love the rain. I love what it says. It's hard to hear over the music.
Vain men never hear anything but praise...
Smart men pay attention to the "taunts" too.
My man yells "Toast!" as I pour myself a glass...
As I pour myself out to myself. a
I've been in the club too long.
