I can feel it if I hook my fingers under my ribs. A white and sightless blob. I imagine milky pig kidneys, encrusted with fatty metastasizing. A thin cord of rippling concertina runs through my flank. I'm stiff through the shoulders and sick from caffeine overdoses. Is this the beginning of geriatrics? Self-medication that culminates into cloudiness and bloat? Disconnection from myself from the conventional extravagances of first world privileges.
12:01 p.m. - 2016-10-10
Recent entries:
Tossi Propter - 2018-07-02
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