A Visit With Ghost-Part 3 of 4.

I'm sitting in a chair at InkLink Tattoos in West Palm Beach.

The guy about to inject black ink into my skin is an old friend of mine, and behind me is my step brother who I haven't seen since my dad passed away eight years ago.

He has not changed much. He is still as fucking weird as he was back then.

I don't know how I lived with him, but I'm not sure how he lived with me, so I guess it's a push.

Standing next to him is a girl who's name I can't remember, she comes off as a whore, but I think It's just for show. Maybe shes fresh out of high school, when that was something that guys liked.

Maybe she's just a whore.

We ended up here because when I got to my brothers house, we had no idea what to do for the night. So we sat around for awhile and blamed lack of activity on the town.

I've got news for you, it's not your town that's boring. It's you.

So I mentioned something about a tattoo I'm supposed to get while in Florida, and the next thing I know were on our way to InkLink.

When we arrive, my friend Chris is sitting outside, like he always is.

He has not changed much either.

In fact no one in Florida has changed.

I'm not sure if this is sad, or comforting...

Actually I am sure.

But I'm not going to say which one it is, because admitting it would be sad, and telling them would be sad, because a lot of them actually read this journal which is sad. And the way I would attempt to explain my reasoning would be sad, all wrapped up in a sad paragraph with sad sentences and sad tempo.

So I'm not going to get into how I feel about it.

I tell Chris I need a tattoo done TONIGHT! And that I have limited monies!

Tonight because It must be done in Florida since it is the root of all evil in my soul.

And Limited monies! because Visa thought it would cute to upgrade my card while I left for vacation, rendering the current card in my wallet useless. So cash it is, and very little at that!

I might as well of been branded on the ass with "Ownt by Visa!"

And so that is why I'm sitting in a chair at InkLink, getting more words scribed into my skin. Words I wrote along time ago when writing was hip and cool. There are many reasons I'm putting these lines on my arm, but I will spare you the emo speech. I'll just let you know that I'm planning to fill my whole arm up with words that are important to me.

A walking book on life and it's lessons.

Because I don't blame my city for problems.

--------------------------------------------

Stay tuned for part 4 tomorrow!

I will post a picture of my tattoo along with a picture of my Prada shoes tomorrow.

My tattoo is the last four lines from this, an old poem of mine. For more information on it, go dig threw my journal entries.

Part 2-Becoming Dressed To Kill

I used to hate when wind blew hair into my face
And I forgot the smell of clouds and how beautiful my blood was
To bad I remember in this moment

Burn my eyes for one last time
Over wild skies
Breath in the smoke
Let out the cries
And fly for the first time

From the shadow wreathe
I'll fall threw this sky In hopes I land somewhere safe
Unharmed, Uninjured, and Unhurt. But I hope I land somewhere safe
I hope I land somewhere safe...