Infer: This is a moment. This is a resembled movement. A document a drawing a low blow a fuck. We sift oceanic bewteen what happened and the dream. We drunk and fumble. We are aesthetically pleasing.
We are floating out.
Sunday, January 14, 2007
note one
n calls while you're at the bar in jersey she says she has cut her wrists in the bed they shared and there is blood everywhere he is gone and she is too drunk to drive home sorrows rise up like a turquoise sea she is in boston still in... silence sits still in the corner of the room
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