When I got off the plane I looked around, the terminal was more normal in the world: Check in, Check out, please raise your arms, has the belt with metal buckle ? well, passes well and good luck. Welcome to Sexy
City. Fucking name. I climbed the first free taxi and I left lead to the motel in the city, the house seemed to Larry Flynt, bitches that kicking zompettavano from room to room, distinguished gentlemen with bulging wallets as their underwear, anime Paing that burned in the bathroom, secretly. What is bad casting the trick at the party. An orgiastic goviglio disappointment, inconsistencies, desires and greed. That's what this city, a maze more and more black as we enter you. When you let yourself get carried away with it drags you down, muffled by a sweet fall boobs, thighs and lips that will cannibalize without you realize.
But not me. Not me. I arrived and I hit. I have carved a niche for kicks, fists and hissing lead. I shed blood in this city. Blood not mine. Again. Some have died, those who are not dead are rotting in prison, and with them a piece of me, This is hell. When rubbing the wall to see the button is made of organic matter. Wet and skinny, smelling of decay and closed.
It 's my personal hell and I am here serving my sins.
I decided that I try to write again. Happy?
Jakson.
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