outwait outrun outwit





TALES OF AN ORANGEPEELER

an archive of pleasures, wounds, sublimations
& other curiosities :: elsewhere :: profile


09.05.02, thursday noon

Tho’ the skin weeps blood and lymph fluid, when I close my eyes I am riding bare-armed through the streets of a new city at midnight, a transient freedom reckless and crowing within me, as the Mongoose cycles faster and faster.




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