Train Tracks

It was the kind of place where the weather was overcast and the flora and fauna were constantly dead, where the only entertainment was smoking pot out of a filthy bong by the train tracks or slitting your wrists.

Malaise

 It’s a generalized, full bodied malaise that settles and nestles into my bones, into my tendons and into my meat. Apathy is worse than active despair in a lot of ways; it slowly sucks the life out of you, rather than killing you in one swift, glorious burst. It robs you of even feeling a momentary spurt of elation, or fear, or really anything.