waking up
9:46 p.m.

thursdays. unpredictable in that sense of beauty. like knowing that friday is approaching from a safe distance.

dead men look at me from pop-up ads that have inverted colors. since when could we market the essence of mercy? since when could we put such an affordable price on salvation?

sometimes the search engine wants a string of forty words. just enough to make it belch out the correct answer. and sometimes it is just the lyrics that cry out the truth.

"I won't descend.

You're the same, the shame again."

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