Sometimes…

Sometimes making things saves us from idle human syndrome (and depressive tendencies implied thereafter)…

I am forced to make things. My slave master whips me into it.

I’m not that submissive. Well. We take it in turns.

For, like every n.a member uses as an excuse… I AM AN ADDICT.

Actually.

A slave to a master.

Addicted.

Just go make something.

• 

Something made

Feel okay about yourself.

Despite your old straight friends not returning your calls or messages when you need them (note that they have not rung needing you for anything, ever… Being that much of a useless junky fuck in their eyes, for those years…)

Feel okay about yourself…

Despite not keeping in contact with drug mates.

Despite everything.