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- Author: Adam Murray
- Publisher: INDEPENDENTLY PUBLISHED
- ISBN-10: 1074719433
- ISBN-13: 9781074719432
- Format: 15.2 x 22.9 x 0.4 cm, minkšti viršeliai
- Language: English
- SAVE -10% with code: EXTRA
Reviews
Description
Words slashed across paper in an aggressively meaningless existence, where there is no escape from the hungry, howling streets and my deteriorating mental health.The exhausting struggle to be human in inhuman circles. Our unique way of experiencing the city where we are the city. Horn-locked in an intricate dance between accolade and anonymity in an unpromising artistic wasteland of modern literature. Eager to forget that God is a pig. These powerful and provocative pieces defy mediocrity with unflinching honesty to the human impetus that compels us to survive our constant social seppuku.Words shaped by slow madness in cheap rooms where the bottle begs my hand and strangers scream for silence. Where the lines between my mental illness and my addiction blur in disillusioned cynicism to write about our human condition. Our inhumanity. Rooms that smell of mold, Marlboro and life-ending mistakes. The places we live and die in.
The promotion ends in 
- Author: Adam Murray
- Publisher: INDEPENDENTLY PUBLISHED
- ISBN-10: 1074719433
- ISBN-13: 9781074719432
- Format: 15.2 x 22.9 x 0.4 cm, minkšti viršeliai
- Language: English English
Words slashed across paper in an aggressively meaningless existence, where there is no escape from the hungry, howling streets and my deteriorating mental health.The exhausting struggle to be human in inhuman circles. Our unique way of experiencing the city where we are the city. Horn-locked in an intricate dance between accolade and anonymity in an unpromising artistic wasteland of modern literature. Eager to forget that God is a pig. These powerful and provocative pieces defy mediocrity with unflinching honesty to the human impetus that compels us to survive our constant social seppuku.Words shaped by slow madness in cheap rooms where the bottle begs my hand and strangers scream for silence. Where the lines between my mental illness and my addiction blur in disillusioned cynicism to write about our human condition. Our inhumanity. Rooms that smell of mold, Marlboro and life-ending mistakes. The places we live and die in.
Reviews