The razor winds of early summer etch my door frame. I miss the lunatic touch of varnished angel wings. Acutely. I recon the usual haunts for signs of reciprocation. Emptiness and platitudes litter the rubble. My fancy pair of headphones doesn't block out the wails of need. An inconsiderate maw of ego hides in cinnabar fields. It donates to me sleepless, nauseous nights in lonely bedchambers.
11:45 a.m. - 2017-05-15
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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