(no subject)
For bothers. The Afterlife, Pt. 1.
The thing they don't tell you about leaving prison, because they're either dying or dead or don't live long enough to say, is that you never forget the first real breath you take. You don’t remember anything else, what any of your favorite foods taste like, not even alcohol, or the way a woman feels when you’re inside of her. A lifetime ago you were a different man. Back then you thought about textures and sounds and light; now you don't want to think at all. You didn’t think you had to memorize the name you left upon the outside world.
“You look like you’ve been through hell,” Boa said softly when she came to pick me up. “Welcome back, Sunwoong.”
I am number 800722, I am number, am number 800722, I
The thing they don't tell you about leaving prison, because they're either dying or dead or don't live long enough to say, is that you never forget the first real breath you take. You don’t remember anything else, what any of your favorite foods taste like, not even alcohol, or the way a woman feels when you’re inside of her. A lifetime ago you were a different man. Back then you thought about textures and sounds and light; now you don't want to think at all. You didn’t think you had to memorize the name you left upon the outside world.
“You look like you’ve been through hell,” Boa said softly when she came to pick me up. “Welcome back, Sunwoong.”
I am number 800722, I am number, am number 800722, I