Friday, May 28, 2004


Why do i have thoughts like this?

The tissues were starting to become a problem. He couldn’t part with them, they were a part of him and it would be like cutting off an arm. At first they could fit into the shoebox. Though that was fifteen years ago. Now there were boxes of all sizes stacked waist high with only a little path between the bed and the door. He’d had a little too much to drink and stumbled into one of the boxes, arms flailing he pulled at another box in the failed hope of halting his fall. Which is how Tim ended up on his back on the floor, covered with tissues coated in his dry sperm.


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