And I’ve swallowed the pill only to have my friends bail and so I walk the streets alone.
I am a streetwalker.
I come across a hostel bar … backpackers, ‘Fuck it,’ I think ‘They’ll be up for a yarn.’
There is a staircase leading upward and so I climb and enter a bar full of chatter in a multitude of accents.
Continue reading “At My Feet by Michael Tyler”
literally stories 