Exhausted by Junkyard Shaman

"She took a deep breath and leaned back in her chair. The gas fumes went straight up to her head and lit her brains with thousands of weird and unexpected connections. She felt lightheaded and fuzzy. Somehow through the curtain of I-don’t-give-a-fuck she managed to understand that she was in a seated position, sitting in an old arm-chair. Slowly the reality around her started to mold itself into a living room. A small coffee table right in front of her, an empty bookshelf to her right. Her wrists were aching for all the masturbation, but she couldn’t really help herself. The butane induced serenity was the only thing keeping her from beginning all over. She didn’t even care. She was far out. And for a brief moment she felt better than in months. Life didn’t seem as unbearable when she was high. Nothing was unbearable when she was high. She played with the thought of exhausting her brain of all oxygen and just slipping through the sweet haze that would carry her off the edge of time and space and into the infinite, calm bliss of death, but somehow it made her feel uneasy. Not yet. Not just yet, she thought to herself as her fingers slid across the vast plains of her smooth skin.."

1.	Reality Is Dissolving	3:13

2.	Self-Destruction As a Past-Time Activity	5:46

3.	I Really, Really Love Your Bone Structure	4:54

4.	Butane Fumes Carry Her Away	11:44