On the street, cool air blasts me in the face. I look up and take in what seems like the same streetlight that follows me around the city. It mocks whores like me in the late hours. It takes pleasure in knowing that, if it has to sit outside in the dark, used and meandering, so do I. I can’t take sitting at home on my own at night. Too many ghosts use silence as their time to attack. I convince myself that I am bored, when what I really want is noise to drown them out. I persuade myself that I am horny, when what I really am is lonely. So I allow the street to lead me from club to tavern to
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