I sharpen my butterfly knife on the tires of my old and busted car. Cobwebs litter the windshield from the inside. There's a used children's carseat in the trunk. It isn't mine.
The rainbow metal blade is more pretty than practical. The weight is reassuring against my thigh. My torn jeans of decades protects me against insult and insecurity. I just don't have any fucks to give, any more. I'm just old and obsolete, and pretending to be a Lost Boy outside of Neverland.
10:46 p.m. - 2015-07-22
Recent entries:
Tossi Propter - 2018-07-02
Summerscorch - 2018-07-02
Heartdesert - 2018-06-25
Elliptical - 2018-06-25
Back and Callback - 2018-06-18
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