The winter re-opens my knuckles with fireplace kisses. The black tape glows dull in fading halogen. I ice bruised shins with text message affections. Fifteen million cycles of chasing meaningless achievements play in the background. Every wasted second a tap of ticker tape life. Displacement of values happens like a gift through a portal gun. Through a blue circle, to be set down outside a red one, in the same place it was picked up.
11:26 p.m. - 2016-01-03
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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