When it rains, it pours. Tea leaves of incomprehensibility ask me salt-flat questions. But I need a better incentive to respond than what's currently on offer. I've never learned much divination, except maybe pot and kettle hypocrisies.
I instead abandon myself to a weekend of othered routines. I peel apart rotten-fruit feelings with sharpened-steel facts. Neither the red pill, nor the blue one, are terribly honest. I pretend to abdicate my throne to incite the stragglers.
3:45 p.m. - 2016-04-17
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