December 2009
1 post
Downstairs lies hope. In the dream of space and the final of my frontiers I look down. Solitude is hopeful, loneliness a curse. There is an edge so sharp and fickle, I must stand on it, baiting the ground to swallow me. -“Fucking chickenshit earth!” It doesn’t take my dare. I walk back to the stately hallows of my manor and sleep until my eyes are sandpaper. Then, I drink, until...