setting: winter night, third year in this non-compulsory endless journey.
your braincells are playing tag.
they’re like little sugar high kids running around in birthday parties.
so the city ate your friends too, huh?
hoping the Internet slips out of importance…
…still hoping…
(is there an app for that?)
here’s a motto: if you can make (what?) (where?), you’ll make (what?) anywhere… it’s up to (who?), New (?) York, New (!!??) York…
ha.
third year.
here.
sweet mercy.
how about retiring…
and they say there’s borderline. what’s past that? overline? yonderline? border-next-line?
thank you info age, for giving us something unpredictable to live through.
…and reaching for his reflection, he fell in and drowned.
-
swear to God that’s how it ends.
...that's not an iPad, babe.
