manic
with nostrils raw and overgrown pupils like the night’s sky, we blow another fat white line before venturing into the cold. mouths chattering tiny visible breaths into the air, the amount of life in our eyes is the most undeniably alluring sight. the chemicals smeared in my cheeks have turned my mouth numb; the drip is making it’s way down my throat. these people alone disprove my all-encasing assumptions of humanity. it may be insanity speaking to me, but the clock says we’ve been going for 48 hours.
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