This Fucking Void.

Bonfires and old Bob Dylan tracks. Miller High Life upon an empty flask. Indiana nights that no longer infinitely last,

But hang. And goddamnit you still think I’m playing games, but I’m not. I wouldn’t even bother knowing full well I’d get caught. Even so, it’s worth a shot. In the dark. Of Patron. “Leaving me behind was the best thing you could do.” And sweetheart I’ve been such a fool…

But you wouldn’t even notice. What’s the point anymore, meanwhile, I’m living eternally in an entirely different world.


One thought on “This Fucking Void.

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