She stands aside in the jellyfish skies. Pink gelatin floods wash the trees of their spiderwebs. She ambushes people with hope and giddiness. She sings tinsel-tone tunes to red-feather birds.
She's also a walking veneer of hardcoat spray paint over a muted heart. Black and mindless, like every other zombie. This facade is fabricated, automated, and the only reflection she has left of her once porcelain life. She'd make a perfect doll.
9:08 p.m. - 2015-11-16
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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