Who knew this would be so heavy?
I mean, is it even really safe for me to be holding this by myself?
Hey buddy. Hey. Hey!
Nothing?
I guess I can’t really ever trust anyone to help. I can only rely on myself.
I am not even getting overtime.
I am Cone Alone.
Oof. Ugh. Uhh.
Um.
I am crushed by the tremendous weight of circumstance.
I am Cone Alone.
I am normally buried this time of year, but this is ridiculous.
I am (snow) Cone Alone.
Happy holidays to all the fans and everyone constantly supporting this project, especially:
People see the tattoo and they assume.
They think they know me.
I lost my job eight months ago.
I was working on a street in Reston, Virginia. I was earning a steady check.
Then the construction was finished.
“No construction here,” they say to me.
I am out of luck.
I am more than you think.
I am Cone Alone.
Nearly 1200 miles.
Twelve hours.
Two layovers.
One flight of stairs to another Thanksgiving with the family.
I smell turkey, but I am chicken.
I am Cone Alone.
“Piso mojado,” dude.
I totally told you: “Piso mojado.”
“Piso mojado.”
I tried to warn you, but it seems
I am Cone Alone.
Eerily floating in the harbor.
My origin a mystery.
Is this costume or insidious plot?
Are you drowning in the intrigue?
I am flotsam.
I am jetsam.
I am Cone Alone.
Photo courtesy of Cajsa L.
I never thought I would be close to you.
All my letters came back “Return to Cinder.”
This love is heavy. It weighs me down.
I am Cone Alone?
I wear a hair piece.
Is it obvious?
If you mock me, there’ll be hell toupee.
I am Cone Alone.
I may have fallen asleep during my back-to-school duties.
I never knew a moped could do so much damage to a crossing guard.
Finally getting out on good behavior after five years.
I know my family have moved on.
I know my friends have moved on.
I’ve finished this period, but will I ever truly finish this sentence?
I am Con Alone.
Cone Alone 