My shadow receives subsonic vibrations over the weekend. I feel the aftershocks by proxy. Watercolor ink from fresh pictures leaves droplets on the floor. Just a little searching finds glitterdust freckles, lipstick bruises and unused surgical masks. My Breath of Oceans boils for a moment. A rotten confection in the pit of my stomach turned sour. It's just a fucking photo.
11:18 a.m. - 2017-10-23
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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