Saturday, March 13, 2010

It's Not Who You Rock in The Scene,

Rather who you are in between.

I used to listen to this song on repeat with old mates who went and chose their own way and picked their own fate.

Kind of ironic, but true.
Too many brothers gone. The curse of the graffiti writer. When you are exposed to the fact you need to rack your paint, because a 13 year old kid can't explain why he needs 50 dollars to Mum, you are exposed to crime.
You need to paint, it's the closest to heaven as you are gonna get when you're young. That and chrome fills get you high as fuck when your painting a dayspot.
You don't realise this when you're young.

Soon you realise that if racking paint is that easy, racking DVD's and digital cameras is just as easy. Leanovers on rooftops slowly turn to leanovers over counters.

Then your Mum starts asking questions about your new garments and gadgets you flash about every week.
She knows you don't have a job.
So you try and get one step ahead.
You start selling what you've got. If you get cash, you think you'll be ok, you can just lie and say you have a job, even pay board and for food.

But then people start offering to swap you drugs for your goods.
Just as good as money, you probably get more money from the drugs then if someone paid straight cash, but you need to know people to liquify it to.
So you start moving in circles of users. You say you'll never be like them, and your just dealing to get by.
One day, a unsatisfied customer comes and says they want their money back, the shit you sold them was mud. The customer says you should start sampling the shit before you fucking sell it you monkey.

Then you start using, but just to make sure that your clientele are getting the best, and keep coming back.

Sooner than later, you are going to them for shit, and begging for another week to pay them back.

In the beginning all you wanted to do was write graffiti and get laid.
Now you're underweight, with one foot in the grave.

Too many times has this song been playing and all I get are bad acid flashbacks of my life and the lives of those I miss to this day.

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