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About San Diego

We swears! Surprised me once, this one bird—classy, y’know? High heels, talkin’ posh, not yer usual slag. “I’m alive,” she says, like she’s proud, echoin’ Polanski’s man. Got me thinkin’—they’re fighters, ain’t they? Dodgin’ pimps, punters, the law. Me head spins—why’s it gotta be so rough? Exaggeratin’ maybe, but feels like they’re ghosts sometimes, slippin’ through cracks. We swears! Funniest bit? Bloke I knew paid double for a cuddle—soft sod! “Help me,” he begs her, like Szpilman to his piano. Pathetic, hilarious—made me cackle!

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I stroll these blocks, err, sometimes too fast, tippin to beats in my head. Ain’t no perfect grammar in these streets, but there’s truth. Like, Holy sh! these roads be whisperin’ secrets – sometimes I swear I hear the echoes of Julian Schnabel’s camera clicks, “I can fly away,” and then I’m tryna bounce like my rhymes.

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