Against the lime green wall of her bedroom he leaned, holding his gut which contained a bleeding hole that would not stop poisoning, smoke crept from his tongue:
shaving a few numbers off the board
like a hot knife cutting through a melon
"It's a favor to a friend
who got me out of a bad spot
before i got into a bad spot
again,"
he said.
"But the spot I'm in now
is my bad spot -
I own this.
No part of it is her's."
He paused, continued:
"With enough LSD,
you & your friends
will
eventually
become
psychic.
She tried to own that
too."
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