I was three drinks deep when the kid showed me his phone, grinning like he’d just discovered how to jerk off for the first time.“Check this out,” he said, shoving the screen in my face.A woman stood there, more beautiful than sin, draped in silk that barely touched her skin, hair flowing like water down…
read morethey call it art.they call it creation.pixels puked by zeros and ones,no trembling hand,no cigarette ash falling on the canvas,no whiskey-soaked regretsdripping into the paint. it spits out beauty like a whore’s smile,perfect, cold, untouched,not a single scar beneath the surface,not a damn thing behind those eyes. I stare at it,trying to feel something,anything.but it’s…
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