HOMEMESSAGEARCHIVE
our true stories were lousy. our stories were slick black things that we spit out of our mouths onto the table in front of us. we were trying to sell something. we were trying to sell our loneliness, and no one was buying. and we were getting tired of dark looming things. we were getting tired of trying to glue words onto doom.

β€”richard siken, love from a distance (via davidburked)
30 Dec 14   +  2,362 notes
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