Diary

Dark. Again before bed, you but a different one. Fucking good art and underwear sicko. Clean up feeds to follow, old mates with missing bits. Missed opportunity for networking, perhaps too literal now. Can’t think of nonsense.

02.39 29/12/15

No Internet connection, but you can still post offline, even to friends who aren’t. It always seems that I close my eyes in darkness, which is your fault. Back in the battery green, no rust today. All good, and I don’t think I’m going to say certain things. One minute to tomorrow.

23.59 27/12/15

My McAfee expires in three days. I will watch them and it will freeze, blood moving from one place to another, pounding in the neck. I don’t really want to be so cold, to have to cut of certain circulations. But I have to. A quiet android insanity is better than a cheek-scratching human one. So I will settle. When the sickle cuts the lock-screen light will warm, the feeds feeding but not sustaining. When the words become a chore I should stop, this isn’t gold, but pleasing rust. 
14.32 25/12/15