Saturday, 8 January 2011

The Hundred Thousand Dead


Sleeping in a basement with rock, dirt, and my best friends. We drank ourselves silly, smoked ourselves silly, talked ourselves out. Not but three hours ago I was waking up. We'd spent the night lying on a fire escape, laughing and telling everyone how much we loved/hated/indifferented each other. It's just another day in the life of the inane and confused; we aren't much but we are existent and I guess that's something to brag about.

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