A witches rave croaks and cackles. The sound echoes with uneasy familiarity across an electron tundra. It reminds me of unmindfulness and accounts unclaimed. Of abusing the privileges of vulnerability. Drinking of faceless entities' despair to fill my own self-centered black hole.
I stop at a hole-in-the-wall down the street. The sorceress' festivities continue. They tug on a thread of longing.
I tattoo another reminder onto my hands.
This one says "selfishness", in my own handwriting. Highlighted in silver and evening and asylum.
12:21 a.m. - 2014-09-12
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