wonders ceasing tied up like a little girl in pyjamas in her blanket

Last night I felt like my mind was dying. Hallucinations kicked in and made for little sleep. I felt my skin was too small and that the raw blue bones in my fingers were protruding. Every time my fingernails tapped against something, it was the bone clicking, sending waves of terrible sensation up into my arms and tongue. When Matthew came over today, we curled up into each other like withered burning leaves and slept.

Today I found out something new about my building. (The cliches keep piling up). I finally confirmed that the one armed man across the hall from the hookers downstairs who stole our corkscrew is a war vet. However, he’s german, a WWII veteran, and he wasn’t on the side of the Allies. I’m not sure how I feel about this, past my relief that such ideals are not automatically contagious. My personal aesthetic says that if naught else, it’s simply another reason to like living here. I think all young people should live in such buildings at some point. The wildlife is colourful and appropriate for late night foreign films.

(It’s atrocious, but I would like to think that sometimes he gets the black uniform out and cries over little eagle shaped medals and a picture of a french girl in the blue light of his telly at three in the morning. You know, just to keep cultural form.)

Gacked from kabukivice…