I'm hung up on laziness. Rusted fishhook elbow snags. Scars of conventional extravagances line my bedsheets. The habits of unproductive people fight me, barehanded, every morning. I'm getting pretty sick of split lips and black eyes. I just don't know how to shift gears. I've always been a uninspired manual driver. Cultish slavery to mediocrity and it's perpetuation. There's so little inspiration in the clouds of acid skies.
12:02 p.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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