My knuckles split slowly on rime-ridden tape. Californian cold softens my scars enough to peel away callouses made from one hundred strikes. The blood on my fingers crystallizes into stony enlightenment.
I go treasure hunting with a satchel of wanted posters. A casual and well-practiced bounty hunter.A blue muse with a frigid face replaces the princess of setting suns. The latter's warmth was never well-calculated. Just earnest and bright.
10:33 p.m. - 2015-12-08
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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