5 Oct 2022

I have been in this bar a thousand times, sweating tears, discharging fears. This conversation with you is crusty, worn thin with overdone dread. I am not enough. I am enough but only half the time. Enough, you say, but I’m already in the void.

A front door at night is just slightly out of focus, bathed in an orange light right above the arched door frame with the number 552 underneath it.

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