The Pretentions of the Progressively Agressive Purveyor it’s not that I love fluorescents, it’s that sometimes I need them to see. aching hands and caramel caps. shit that makes less sense than a road. when water and meat are the necessities, we’re taught to survive on what we’ve stole. my christ, to live without my drugs and my commercialized pajama bottoms. without my coasters and my mouse pad and my motherfucking spell-check. the flicker of a flint is a story in-and-of itself. what do I have to go back to, if not my apathy? and do you believe that by reading this, you achieve anything superior?Birth sign: Cancer
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