scrawls
still cheaper than therapy*


14.11.10
a white half-moon, a black sky. i wish i knew what the future tasted like. Is it salty, is it sweet? Maybe it smells like an inkjet printer, maybe like a rich old forest. Maybe like fire. i find the raclette that's been in the fridge for so long already, i still have no options, no implementry, and i melt it over an omelet, good mushrooms, good morning.

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scrawled @ 20:32






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