Be a Vandal.

A Poem by Hunter Zabbai

This is it. THIS is the moment you've been waiting for your whole life. This very second. It's only moments away. What are you gonna do with it? You gonna follow them, what they want, what they need?

No.

You know that you don't need that. You know what you want.

You want truth.

You want life.

You want love.

You want the abnormal.

You want to burn, burn, burn.

This is your chance. THIS IS YOUR CHANCE.

Time does pass. Things do change. People and their thought's remain brittle and torn down.

You remain strong, trekking on for the rest of the journey. You've just made it to Fish Camp.

This is the last day of your previous life.

This is the first day of something new. Something fresh.

If you look at anything from a different standpoint, it might make you happy.

Rejoice. You've endured. And carried along.

You're alive. You have purpose. You have a wonderful Mother.
You have intelligence. Beyond comparison(get it, yet?).

You have plent of talent.

Find the right people. Don't be with them again.

If you're tired of people thinking you're this attraction at a freak show, change their idea of freak show.
Hang out with the other freaks.

Associate with what you know. But don't be afraid to try to do what you don't know how.

Never be on of those f***s who explains the unexplainable with the unexplained....again.

Final thoughts:

When a man in a coon skin hat in the Pig Pen wants eleven dollar bills, but you only got ten, you can't afford the scandals, remember, the pump don't work cuz' the vandals stole the handle.