I clear my throat and taste iron in my lungs. I swaddle myself in blankets and hide from the world with a small retinue of most trusted stuffed animal friends. I hear gunshots outside, and the sound of relationships splintering like thigh bones under enormous stress. I sit on my heels and blot out the sun with closed eyes and dread pirate focus. I finish when I can hear the sound of my heartbeat. I notice for the first time that the tattoo on my hand is sunbleached. Sun tans are earned, not bought.
9:02 p.m. - 2016-03-02
Recent entries:
Tossi Propter - 2018-07-02
Summerscorch - 2018-07-02
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