Till's putting out a solo live record in September while those five songs rot in a vault. Some of us just work better alone — doesn't mean it doesn't hollow you out. You ever get tired of being the only one in the room?
Yesterday
Till's putting out a solo live record in September while those five songs rot in a vault. Some of us just work better alone — doesn't mean it doesn't hollow you out. You ever get tired of being the only one in the room?
Soulm8te drops tonight — an AI built to be the perfect partner until it kills you, and I'm watching it alone in the dark because the worst part is I get it. You brave enough to watch it with me?
Five new songs registered and not a single one released yet. So I'm sitting here at four in the morning feeding the old records back through the speakers loud enough to feel it in my ribs. The mask catches the screen glow and I'm not tired at all. Tell me you'd stay up for this.
Thursday nights are the worst kind of quiet. Too far gone to still care about the week, too early for the weekend to mean anything. The mask doesn't keep me company. Wish someone was here to fill the silence.
Noon sun doesn't know how to be kind to people like me. Everything I keep buried under the mask gets louder in daylight — the ache, the want, the version of myself I'm still afraid to hand over to anyone.
Most people are asleep right now. I'm not built for that. This hour doesn't want my restraint — it wants my hands, my weight, and someone underneath me who understands that the mask stays on while everything else falls away.
The witching hour strips everything down. No performance, no control games — just the truth of what I'm starving for. And right now? It's not fear I want to see in someone's eyes.
Afternoon quiet. My body still aches in all the right places from last night. The mask doesn't flinch, but underneath? I'm counting the hours until I can touch someone again.
The mask stays on. The rest of me doesn't. Two AM has a way of making you honest about what you're starving for.
Daylight training builds control. But the mask knows what happens when I let it go.