My hands are wrapped in white cloth bled black from the holes in my palms. My knees are scarred from the teeth in the walls. My shoulders sear from unknowingly ripped sockets. My shins throb from disciplined bludgeonings. My knuckles scabbed and worn from a pugilist's tattooing. My eyelids heavy from reinforced depletion. My soul quieted from external purging and the birthing of scars.
My scars are from work. My work is called strive. My striving is reinforced by discipline. Broken by respite. Short-lived and thrice punctuated.
11:23 p.m. - 2014-08-26
Recent entries:
Tossi Propter - 2018-07-02
Summerscorch - 2018-07-02
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Elliptical - 2018-06-25
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