Salt rained from graveyard clouds. Great clumps of the resurrected visiting old haunts. Half-rotten mouths and milky eyes. A cracked porcelain doll. An angel-winged demon. A gypsy with two-heads. A painted whore with a silver tongue. A vain daughter with beautiful, broken hands. My shoulders are heavy from the burden of stubborn grudges. I write and erase the apologies of months many times. The words of hindsight don't signify.
5:05 p.m. - 2017-07-03
Recent entries:
Tossi Propter - 2018-07-02
Summerscorch - 2018-07-02
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Back and Callback - 2018-06-18
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