twenty-eight october
two : oh-two p.m.

these days - when i open the door to bootlegged nirvana playing too loudly and the comforting smell of illegal posessions warming the halls and there is a boy i met once last year laying on the floor with hands on his stomach and i'm contemplating new habits because nothing means anything and there is music that reminds me of sitting on the city sidewalk discussing future jobs and past regrets and i'm getting by on pills and late nights - these days feel ok.