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Cocaine, illegal weapons, sharp objects, death's obsession and reflections on my final days on earth. There is only time. There is no time. Drink up, shoot in...face to the mirror. My body is a chemical wasteland, my life consists of one night stands and brutal attempts at human relations and a certain brutality that can only be recalled by the bloodstains on my arm. There is little left that stimulates. All I seek is to be left to my own devices. Does it matter who you wake up next to or where you wake up at all? Not anymore.
Live by the pen. Die by the gun.
