outwait outrun outwit





TALES OF AN ORANGEPEELER

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


12.06.03, saturday morning

Today I'm a locked box, small and steel and as gray as the Oakland sky. But don't look for a skeleton key; inside lie ugly things, barbed things that aren't necessarily weapons but hurt when touched, a meanness cultivated by these (friend-, money-, patience-) lean times.




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