Kinks

Although the world smells like an old dive bar drenched in stale beer and the dried blood of martyrs, I’m back to clean up some filthy ashtrays, lipstick stained whisky glasses, and hire a death metal band for tomorrow night. The neon lights on the patio need some new bulbs, and the bartender is still on methadone, but she has stone and beauty in her bones. So buckle up, bitches. Things are about to get legendary in this black pill literary portal.

I’ve been gone for too fucking long.

It’s time to get gnarly.

What say you?