Reputation
Gets into the sold out show
Rarely pays for dinner
Gets drunk on the best spirits for
nothing but a tip
Gets the merchandise not on the shelf
Never gets complains when they’re to
loud
Gets to hangout after closing
Gets cheaper prices
Gets to park in the no parking
Gets to do lot things a lot easier
then civilian
Reputation
Gets a stigma
Gets an established personality now
15 years dated
Gets derivatives of the past
Gets existence without renovation
Gets inappropriate merit
Gets surrounded by expired input
Gets no inquiry
Gets arbitration a decade old
Notability
has come to me with ease due to my longevity in this town.
My
many jobs, in the Richmond restaurant scene.
My
eccentric personality and comically cosmopolitan label of “candy” hard too forget.
I’m
lucky.
I’m cursed from my past.
Nobody knows me anymore.
I’m a infinite enigma of urban legend.
A synonymous hybrid notion.
No validation for anything but my antiquary.
People don’t change.
I
agree but we grow and we change our mind.
So cursed I take the perks from my patrons.
Sometimes I unconscionably play my loony
role.
Sometimes I try to force-feed them a new
resume.
Most of the time I just surrender.
Ecclesiastically some people think they know
who I am.
Undevout to that I keep living.
Constantly living in self-prudent,
uncertainty and Question.
I am always failing and always surprising
myself.
I’m not 22years old any more.
I’m not arrogant enough to say I’m 36years
old either.
Keep living, experiencing and slowly
experiencing awakenings.
I can grow; I’m not just stagnate or
recessing all the time
I have no idea who I am.
I’ve
already been so many people, so many experiences in this life.
Mistake after mistake I still survive.
I’ve learned so much, I’ve forgotten so much,
so much I still haven’t noticed.
And I’ve earned a reputation I can’t flux.
I’m a living assimilated myth.
I’m reputation
xxxxx
.xxxxx
xxxxx
.xxxxx
xxxxx
xxxxx