Fingers meander absently, mindlessly, naively down QWERTY Lane, telling tales of woes of others onto digital paper. Conscious unconsciousness. Sleepwalking, daydreaming, wandering off into dark alleys where thoughts lurk behind pillars shaped like past bodies and faces, grotesque and looming, stalking, pulsing in excited anticipation of pouncing, screaming, pounding, shrieking assault. They are happy. Their … Continue reading Autopilot
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