I follow a thread of pixelated footsteps across cloudy weekdays. The electric asphalt tastes like one-way affection. I sketch another entry in my biographers journal with charcoal fingernails. I munch on daffodils, bide my time, and keep a respectful distance. A pair of gold medals locked in a battered lockbox at home helps to endure. The same way a weary war veteran gazes at his battered black-and-white family photo.
4:02 p.m. - 2016-05-01
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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