The weariness of hundreds of days carves into my sinuses and lines my jaw. I've packed everything into used cardboard boxes. I'm ready to leave this room. The mold spot on the ceiling is the smallest it's ever been, and the music has finally fallen flat. Even my voice has changed from the sheer repetition of endless hymns.
I'm exhausted from the dreams of lost years.
I sell everything I've acquired over the years to buy a new piece of marble.
I will chisel more carefully, this time.
11:05 p.m. - 2015-06-15
Recent entries:
Tossi Propter - 2018-07-02
Summerscorch - 2018-07-02
Heartdesert - 2018-06-25
Elliptical - 2018-06-25
Back and Callback - 2018-06-18
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