The Roommate’s Lament


The air of this place is fucking with my chi, man. There’s got to be a plan, an arrangement to this disorderly seeming tenement that we just don’t see. Just because you can’t see it doesn’t mean it’s nonexistent, right? Whatever. This isn’t my war to fight. I’ve come unarmed anyway, which is why no harm will come to me. I only see things in fragments (or is it figments?) but you don’t need special specs to see the unearthly pigment of these fucking walls, or the way the halls constantly quarrel with the floors for the prime real estate of your attention. And how the late light of each wasted day evaporates against the window panes…

-r. miller


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