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May 2018
The night is **** warm and there are thunderclouds looming in the horizon. Its skies are neatly stained with a *** stain looking stain of clouds, scattered in the yellow moon of 7pm.

I walked past a wake tonight, then a funeral then the graveyard. Im walking out to buy some cigarettes, menthol for my mother and reds for myself.

The night is a ticking time bomb rigged to blow. Like the pulsing ache in my head or the medicine in my mouth waiting to be crushed between my teeth.
Instruction says I should **** on it as long as I can. Says its supposed to relieve the pain.

I fight back the urge to bite. I fight back the urge to do a lot of things.

The ticking timebomb
Does not explode.
Written by
corpser  21/M/philippines
   Katia Arkasa
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