Trouble.
It can be big or major- but either way, it's awesome.
The rush of stealing, the intoxication of vandalizing- it's like a drug. After taking it once, you need it, crave it. I should know. I can't go more than a week without it. Everywhere you go, there is some rule, waiting to be broken.
I'm the breaker. Of hearts, of prized possessions, but most especially of rules.
I'm also a maker. Of trouble.
Spray paint and a pocket knife- that's all I need for a real good time. If you know what to do with them, that is. When you're bored, you tag a few things with a signature image (mine being a skull), and if you get yourself in a mess of trouble with some dumb asses, that's where the pocket knife comes in.
Or when you're carving a wooden skull for your uptight lady love. Either way, pocket knives are an essential.
Trouble. I'm the maker.
Rules. I'm the breaker.
I'm bad, got a Mohawk, and I'm too devious and sexy for you.
Huh?
What?
No, I have absolutely no idea where your wallet went. *Chuckles*
***
That last line- that was me, being stupid. I mean, Duncan, he really wanted your wallet, and I told he could have it, if he could be really SNEAKY about it.
He failed to do so.
But check your pockets- for real. He's crazy like that.
R&R!