The S nk

too crazy. my story is that i blame the moon. turned away like a skull ignorant. outside, for the sssigarette, i watched a group of eerily similar people approach. it was if they were enconed in a different plane. their gestures, there, could only communicate one thing to me, but everything to each other. they were deaf, touring the city together, animate. but the noise they didn't make was remarkable. no footsteps that the hearing make. no snuffles. as if we made these sounds simply to keep ourselves company. to reply. for me, it felt as if they were a sinkhole for sound. even traffic was muffled. other passersby were visibly staggered. it was blinding to have them pass by. apropo. i have to go. i'll try to write the version i've kept for so long another time. blog entries on shrooms. how dumb.