A daily trip to the convenience store of the deranged
Saturday, July 24, 2010
One Hundred Seventy-Eight
Its 9:20 and I'm lying down to sleep. It's 9:21 and I have no idea where you are. You miss me when your alone, but when you're not, you don't. It's simple math and simple time, 9 twenty or twenty-one, either way you're not mine.
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