Retrieving unowned, moldy dream-memories of hallucinated domestic abuse. Waking in the afternoons to the taste of filed charcoal and stale blood. Inviting the dilirium of heat exhaustion with the tepid plastic of salt water. Stone-cold alcoholic confessions to the cadence of heartbeats and sweat. The euphoria of acknowledgment, despite the infinite chasm of existentialism. Paving the way for another decade of self-mutilation and maladaptive concrete exploration.
3:03 p.m. - 2022-08-25
Recent entries:
This is a Vacation? - 2022-09-21
Perhaps It Is Overtraining - 2022-09-08
A Comparatively Mild Heat - 2022-09-08
Quickly, An Overdose - 2022-09-01
A Total Near Fifty-Thousand - 2022-08-26
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