The rains came again last week. Bent on stripping away entire foundations. I hid myself away in reflective pools of narcissism. Watching myself watch myself, like a self-serving Escher painting. Distraction is all illusory. Everyone eventually flees into imaginary hills. The California Valley storm mangles me into a saturated husk. I find truths in a dusty mirror. I can't wait for San Junipero.
5:04 p.m. - 2017-11-20
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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