The hour
The hour where we receive some sort of consolation prize is where I will still reaffirm that I am the same group of fools that I have always been. Maybe, I am amongst one of them. I am the same drunk that is served every single Friday night. I am the same drunk that is given the exact same reaffirmations of my future. I am the same gangley legged walker down Buckham Alley. I am going to decompose here. I am going to be the same DNA frozen in amber for every scientist to analyze. I am no exception. I am a species of bird. I am winged, yet I do not fly. I am the dumbest species of bird that has ever existed. I am the Flint Dodo bird.
I'm giving in. I'm weak. This city has done me over. Some would think that this is New York City. Some would believe that this is Chicago.
Really?
This is Flint. I am dead. I feel it. I am crushed. This is a city of of self destructed dreams. Some are given chances. Others are screwed out of them.
I was the former. I was given everything. I squandered it all. Three years of squandering. I present the purest of Flint.
I will give nothing to no one, and nothing to myself. I will try and prop self aggrandizement, but it will come to nothing.
I mean nothing to no one but to Humberto and Ruiz. I am Rafael Mojica.
I'm giving in. I'm weak. This city has done me over. Some would think that this is New York City. Some would believe that this is Chicago.
Really?
This is Flint. I am dead. I feel it. I am crushed. This is a city of of self destructed dreams. Some are given chances. Others are screwed out of them.
I was the former. I was given everything. I squandered it all. Three years of squandering. I present the purest of Flint.
I will give nothing to no one, and nothing to myself. I will try and prop self aggrandizement, but it will come to nothing.
I mean nothing to no one but to Humberto and Ruiz. I am Rafael Mojica.