Zero sums and dreadful games. Months of polite requests. All discarded for an impromptu romp after garage work. That seems to be the cycle. Four months of drought, and then a trickle of pleasant promises that evaporate under solipsism. It lends perspective in shades of vanilla jerseys and heavily applied eyeshadow. Was I so different at 24? At 29? At 55?
12:04 p.m. - 2017-11-27
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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