ran off down smoke-shrouded roads and empty lightspots last weekend, only to be blinded by phosphenes and star-crossed supernovas. but then again, all the sleeper hits i'd written (off) were comatose.
i'm not earning all of it back, but i'm scavenging.
there
is
nothing
out
there
that
cannot
be
mine.
good, take that thought and hold on tight. keep feeding the dying light.
