Its hardly the psychedelic dissolution of reality that LSD tends to bring about, which is what I’m used to with this kind of shit after all – but its enough. Then, at the same time, my awareness of my clothes drifts away, bit by bit. Xnx Maybe that’s just me. Of course, that none of that makes what is to come any less twisted and sick. It generally sounds like a wailing trumpet, like how you had the adults talk in those old Snoopy cartoons. I like these long roads. And I feel better, briefly, relaxing in her arms. Nearly forgot about her. Usually its the umpteenth asshole boyfriend, but no – these aren’t some dumbass teenager’s hands, not even those of some shithead college jock. See, my shtick is that I can read emotionally charged experiences from places and things.
