Hundreds of crumpled, stained pages litter the floor. A haphazard frame for my filthy mattress and second-hand laptop. I scrape together a sheaf of papers by the greasy light of an overcast afternoon. Words must be exhumed and moved. Too many readers that aren't strangers. My phone illuminates my face a thousand times with wan, sickly blue light. The newest catch of the day wriggling in the electronic net of my razorblade personality. A pleasant distraction amongst a tonne of shirked worked.
12:31 p.m. - 2016-11-21
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
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