The train smells a certain way. This one smells different then the others. Everything references drugs lately. Today, this second between the inhale and exhale is full of minutes from the summer. I stop trying to find it. I just let it wash over me and think about how it could be so much easier. Instead I'll drink malt liquor, tell stories about people I don't miss and ride this train alone.
Monday, January 17, 2011
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