I hold a handful of caseless ammunition in calloused fingers. It reminds me of a one-way friend I've never met, and his taped-up hunting rifle. Is he a doppelganger that could-have-been?
I replay a conversation with an autistic man in my head for no reason. He babbled about sandwiches and co-conspiracies, and I couldn't find a rictus grin for him. He stopped abruptly and wandered away with a cardboard box full of silver coins clutched in his hands. I can't tell if I'm dreaming I'm a butterfly.
2:18 p.m. - 2016-01-21
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
My profile
Archives
Notes
Diaryland
Random
RSS
others:
As-I-know-it
Nicim
Breathe-Salt
Swordfern
Star-Brite
Swallowthkey
ATwoWayDream
HumHum
Secret-motel
AndWeBreathe
MovingSands
WeAteTheSea