Voices say you’re in Boston, again.
I’ve been doing snus, too much tobacco in my system, or maybe I’m just having an off day from jerking off so often, idk. I can get it up but it’s taking a while to bust.
I want to go to sleep, try again tomorrow.
I’ll give it one more go.
If you are in Boston, avoiding me while you contemplate your life’s choices, fine, I won’t try to find you, I won’t stalk anyone that looks remotely like you or anyone I’ve seen you in pictures with, cause the voices say they’ve been here as well, just ya’know, do your thing, whatever it is you have your heart set on.
Being alone, for me, is a bit of a comfort zone.
As the voices detail my every waking moment, and perhaps even things I could never know, I just yearn for the peace and quiet I had before all of this.
It feels impossible, with or without you in my future.
I don’t know what to say and yet, I co time writing.
Like that’s the only constant.
Also, I looked up if you had a “nekrologer.”
You did not, so that confirms you’re still alive, somewhere…