I file my teeth down at one in the morning. I swallow a mouthful of pills to sharpen my saliva. Fifteen minutes down an empty boulevard at over a hundred klicks an hour. Casual cruelty spit into an upper-middle class home. Faded children's drawings curled against plastic walls. I carve out pockets of solipsism and lay them out on the dinner table. This is mediocre fare. Gibberish tumbles out of a dried and atrophic mouth. Self-referentialism chiseled away under controlled violence. I hadn't noticed I had acquired sculptor's hands from years of practice.
11:32 a.m. - 2018-02-19
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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