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About Houston

She hops in, smells like cheap perfume and regret—kinda hot, tho. “Where we goin’?” she asks. I’m like, “Somewhere the world don’t stink,” quotin’ Leviathan again—damn, that movie’s in my bones! We hit this motel, roaches scatterin’ like my enemies. I’m happy as fuck—got my fix, ya know? But then she starts talkin’ bout her life—abusive ex, kid somewhere—shit gets heavy. “Man’s a beast,” I say, another Leviathan line, and she nods, eyes dark. Surprised me, man—thought it’d just be quick and dirty.

Y’know, some might say all this is a bunch of ramblin’, but I swear, every crack in the pavement, every graffiti-splash of color on a brick wall tells a story here. It’s raw, imperfect, lively. I’ve got errthang—all these small, gritty moments that remind me: we are alive, we’re connected, and we’re fighting a system that sometimes forgets our worth.

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