Dissatisfaction tastes like stale breakfast and recycled air. Self-imposed obligation is a strange and mercurial weight. Sunken costs buried under a landslide of pride and autonomous routine. I have to escape the dry rot. I fold a red and white paper crane in a crowd of addicts. Most days aren't worth the effort of trying. Discipline is a powerful tonic. I need more blood in my caffeine stream. A new face of pixels and irrelevance moves counterclockwise, and doesn't change anything.
10:51 a.m. - 2017-03-27
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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