The proto-silence of decompressed rock chambers. The clicking of keys and compressors. Text message barb wire flirtations at midnight. The precognition of bad choices, pulled along by my abdomen. Zen lectures from the late 1950's firming up sleeping paradigms. Dissatisfaction built up to lethal amounts. Dispensed in tiny doses over hundreds of weeks. A slave to the wage trying to be free.
3:55 p.m. - 2018-03-05
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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