Back alley beatings traded for a handful of pills. Pink and yellow capsules pilled with pinprick pupils. A converted warehouse that smells of fried chicken. Dried blood and sweat, and the nostalgia of squandered youth hidden somewhere in the rafters. Filthy junk mattress in the corner, still warm, and home to a discarded gas mask. The entirety of adulthood, it's all been here. Footsteps of men and women I've never met, etched into the grease and dust. Losing myself again, for a little while. Finding new patterns in the debris of old memories.
7:46 p.m. - 2020-05-06
Recent entries:
Thanking the Pandemonium - 2020-11-26
Simplicity of Sometimes - 2020-11-25
Bubblebeams - 2020-11-18
Red Blue Green Purple - 2020-11-11
Too Young to Descend - 2020-11-11
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