Cell Phone Diaries

I little white lied my way to the top of the bottom. The only way to get any higher is to sleep my way up, but I rather be down her and attempt to claw my way through the masses of bodies then degrade myself to upgrade my image. But can I make it through the slick crevices of the sweaty over worked masses? Can I make it past the labels and all the haunted pasts? Can I move passed the privileged and the men who just have it easy? Or will I be stuck down here suffocating under the sweat filled ambitions and fallen dreams? I dig my nails into the flesh of the halfway there and climb past the falling bodies that are slipping into despair. You have to fight if you want to make in this fucked up world. Its not about the fame of the fortune I just need fresh air to breath. Instead of the toxic fumes that once used to be human dreams. I can't take breathing in this sadness and destruction. I need to make it to the tip this mountain so I dig my heels in so I won't slip when I make it. I little white lied my way to the top of the bottom but what will it take to get to the very top of the heap? How much am I willing to let go?

[ I wrote this last Thursday night...11/4/2010]