Hands full of latex, I fantastize about an October plan. Baseball bat, letterman jacket, amphetamines, Ratface. No noise. Just the silence of sprinting and broken heads. Dilapidated buildings full of social detritus. Ruptured knuckles in preparation for fury. I fucking hate these people. The Moon of Paris as a backdrop, set to loop for entry into Never. A story no media would touch. If they knew what was good for Us.
1:18 p.m. - 2022-10-20
Recent entries:
Studio Singularity - 2022-11-17
All You Do Is Hurt Me - 2022-11-17
On Being Very Sorry. - 2022-11-17
The First of Several Debts - 2022-11-17
Urban Studio One - 2022-10-20
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