a-nameless-one

It's a ridiculous thought to think: An adult shuffling through a candy store, arms filled to the brink, Passing small children with lollipops cemented to their lips, Teetering on his feet, which held potential for a cataclysmic trip. On Friday, April 12, that was me—a more stupid me, but still me. Why did I take a trip to Candy Mountain, you ask out of blatant curiosity? Believe me, I did not flip my covers over that morning And announce, "Tonight, I'm going to buy a shitload of candy!" without warning. If life turned out the way you wanted it to, it'd be so boring. I'll tell you one thing, though; my candy store visitation