I had almost bled to death on the bathroom floor...yes I had just. It was the doing of a honeycomb what fell from the exposed light overhead. My GOD that was a heavy honeycomb all steel and cold...
The first thing I read..the last thing that day with meaning was the history of a war in the 80s...some massacre. I remember being hungry before I read it, but sick like heart failure in the summer when I finished scanning the live boxes.
Oh I think I passed out somewhere near the stairwell where the professor..the old pervert with the male models and the claw-foot chair stood. He was talking in muted tones to a thug about half a story apart and they sounded like they were garbling an odd sort of language. I thought I heard them in Russian...then German...Arabic but it still sounded like silence...like a solid nothing.
Doors open...doors creak
Whirring and bubbling, water pouring through pipes and I know it's drinkable
...and the slums don't seem to mind.
I'm not sure but I think the smell of salt and marijuana was falling from the ceiling tiles.
In this little box of toilet paper...Chargez l'autre cote en premier...that white powder....I used to know what it was
What it meant.
I'm suffering from failure to recall the wire
The wire that lead me
I can't recall which...where are the wire cutters?
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