TheBulgarianArtist

Too much free time on my hands, too much time to sit alone and to pick at all my scabs, drawing new blood from old wounds, often digging to the bone. So, again I welcome back the demons I had exorcised many, many years ago. They're getting ready to attack as I sit there paralysed. Too much free time on my hands, I waste it as I waste away. A routine empty and so bland. I don't need this time at all, when I do nothing but decay.