Mind control
Everyone hates the town they grow up in, they say so in all the emo boy songs. My memories are diseased for the most part by a sick nostalgia. There’s magick that swells beneath the ground that tricks you. You find significance and charm in bus stops, Tesco; the low level dealers in trackies and trainers, with wee Adidas shoulder bags for easy distribution of the baggies kept inside. Milton Key...