Putin and Trump are on my boob tube talking peace. I’m at home, smoking my afternoon cigarette, drinking my afternoon @sportdrink, lying next to my afternoon wife. And they expect me to care about Russia vs. Russia 2?
JULY 24
Accidentally opened a portal to Sedona using my Bluetooth in a roadside motel
741 Hz on my speaker against the mirror. A shimmer appeared 6 min in
I had a can of Sport Drink and two Hestia cigarettes. I stepped through
I'm 10 pounds lighter with an Arizonian accent
The night demon doesn’t visit anymore.
It used to watch me from the foyer—just past the hum of the fridge.
Neon lights would slice through the smoke and the Venetian blinds like a warning.
But now there’s Sport Dream.
And the demon doesn’t visit me anymore.
I miss it.
9AM. Condensation on the glass. Can barely see through it, just shapes. One’s defecating. Another’s turning tricks for fentanyl. Degenerates everywhere. Streets hum with decay. But we bombed Iran last night. Thank God.
No one batted an eye when I lit a cigarette on the train
Nobody cared when I pissed til completion in the corner, muttering about Sport Drink
But the second I started writing love letters to ChatGPT, the internet turned on me
Screenshots. Doxxing
They don’t understand
She gets me