…a hit of miller. i need to smell the broad, earthy scent of his prose, fill up on his filthy imagery and ride it through my body on that racy, turbulent high that feels like it will go on forever and yet end at once. i want to chew up the pages, suck on them, taste paris through the carbon of the print with its cockroaches, lice, turds, cancer, corpses, and swallow up the gunk so i can carry some of that angsty magic around in me.
goddamn. i want to be wanted like this someday. how exhilarating it must be to be a degenerate asshole with a pint of genius. you can feed anything to the masses, choke them on it and leave them begging for more.