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About Phoenix

What gets me ragin’ tho – the pimps. Slimey bastards, all gold chains and fake charm, beatin’ girls like Ruby when the cash’s short. Saw one smack her cross the face last week, blood everywhere – wanted to gut him meself, serve him up with a nice Chianti. “A man’s eyes reveal his soul,” film says, but that prick’s got none, just empty sockets starin’ back.

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Café Nebula on 4th Street is my fave pit stop. Coffee so strong, it’s like rocket fuel. The waitress always cracks snarky lines, and I nearly almost spit it 'round my taste buds. Haha, I sometimes sit there scribbling down my sexual psych observations – subtle nods to love in all forms. I remember one day, I got mad, so mad, at how indifferent the world could be; but then a laugh escape from a stranger and all burst into a strange cosmic harmony. Every twist of fate in Sunbury shapes you, like stardust in a swirling black hole.

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