Missed days are the primary ingredient for wasted life souffle. The weather doesn't deter a crush of humanity that presses itself against shatterproof windows. Consumerism become a choking miasma infecting every insipid plebian. The skies are thick with threats, from rain to nuclear warfare. I loathe myself for imperfect discipline as age slowly cripples my hands. and retreat to a lonely mountaintop, where I can self-flagellate in privacy.
10:51 a.m. - 2017-01-02
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