i admit that i’ve been her, the figure cut out of the picture, but now i cry foul, a double lens that allows. you say goodbye to your best friend for the sake of goddamned adrenaline, you found somewhere to stay, stay, all for one crisis of faith. i see the ride, i see the ride: high/low, i know. i believe in using your hands to get up off of your knees. one day that shooting range will fade, white light of day, blackout existence erased. maybe you have made a very, very permanent mistake.
