on the impulse of winter midnight streetlight smalltown rain

I’m a philosopher: I was born this morning, and tonight I die. If someone rolls out of my bed tomorrow, I care not a whit for him. This day (this moment) is all there is.

Forget your chores and come play with me, on this last sunset of the universe! We’ll get drunk over a discussion of the nature of love, and slowly get naked by candlelight and fuck like toads, and roll out of bed and wander the drowsy streets until dawn. The past is as much a dream as the future– I’ve never been to either, and I don’t want to wait around to find out if I ever will.

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