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My hands are trembling more than usual, so I have altered my coffee to a camomile tea. I administer everything as if it were medicine; a chemist punctuating his day with guilty cigarettes and vague homoeopathy. *It's all ******** I know- but whatever gets you through the day...* In the season of advent, my fingers are bitten down to the quick; throat seared with half-functioning lighters and fragile matches; I can scarcely operate either in this state. The fairy-lights turn the high-street to a runway. *But all I see are charity shops interceded with bookies and coffee houses.* This home-town exists to keep up my interest in finding some purpose. A path to eventual escape from all of these old bonds and ties, pinning me down with memories of *** and all of the street-names I have learned by rote. *I'm treading water here- living in the comfort of a sink-hole.*
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Dec 8, 2014
Dec 8, 2014 at 1:41 PM UTC
Rugby in December
My hands are trembling more than usual, so I have altered my coffee to a camomile tea. I administer everything as if it were medicine; a chemist punctuating his day with guilty cigarettes and vague homoeopathy. *It's all ******** I know- but whatever gets you through the day...* In the season of advent, my fingers are bitten down to the quick; throat seared with half-functioning lighters and fragile matches; I can scarcely operate either in this state. The fairy-lights turn the high-street to a runway. *But all I see are charity shops interceded with bookies and coffee houses.* This home-town exists to keep up my interest in finding some purpose. A path to eventual escape from all of these old bonds and ties, pinning me down with memories of *** and all of the street-names I have learned by rote. *I'm treading water here- living in the comfort of a sink-hole.*
Edward-Coles
Written by
26/M/English
Dec 8, 2014
Dec 8, 2014 at 1:41 PM UTC
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