Heat seeped through broken windows in the early afternoon. The same weekly routine greeted me with a rictus smile. I cut the tips of my hands off without grousing. Zombies say I'm a slave to the wage. I used to think, 'I'm just trying to be free'. This year, the rust-gilded cage is only comfortable during the sandstorms. My hazel eyes find flaw with everything.
4:27 p.m. - 2017-06-05
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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