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the memories still clung to him like a wound that won’t heal.
The salty taste of him lingered at the back of his throat
He had clawed himself...decency to avoid returning
The sharpest of clarity was mired in the deepest of drunkenness.
Stark red numbers glared at him
He ran his tongue along his teeth, felt the fuzz of hard liquor.
clung to him like a wound that won’t heal.
All commercials aired only in the dead of night--for who else was awake at such an hour but the lonely and directionless?
The screen sliced to black, as he flung the remote away in disgust.
on the floor--vague lonely lights.
several days old, the only tangible memento
along his jaw, the careless leer that drove him mad.
He swallowed hard, swallowing the tingling need to vomit, a corrosive lust.
Oh my God, get these filthy magazines outta here. Awful! Christ, what would
Her features were so soft, vaguely defined as in a half-imagined memory, a photograph fading into deep whiteness.
His lover, his mother--words so close in sound, perhaps also in meaning.
he wanted to forget the realization that had crashed upon him in ten intoxicated minutes.
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