Once-a-week euphoric malaise doesn't even punctuate the California haze. The discipline of concrete slabs in uncommonly warm winter mornings. Weeks and weeks of idly flipping through a rolodex of strangers' pictures. A glance in the mirror reveals eyes as white as glass. The same as the next set of drooling mouths outside. Good-natured philistines come early, on the heels of a charcoal-thick calendar. I quickly hide away my dusty, weathered books, and tape my hands and wrists, in preparation.
11:57 a.m. - 2018-02-05
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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