Day-to-day life bleaching away under the patient violence of roteishness. Blanching, every week, into the same sepia shade as a grandparents' mantlepiece photo. Adolescent habits locked away in a cupboard under the ribs. Beating idle hands into a shape less resembling hedonist keys. Meditative songs to hush a perpetual and agitated thrumming. From a distance, nihilism and wisdom look strangely similar.
11:37 a.m. - 2018-07-09
Recent entries:
Situations of Suffocating - 2018-07-23
Hurry Up and Wait - 2018-07-16
Sixty-Four Point Font - 2018-07-16
Purple Crown - 2018-07-16
Empty Stars - 2018-07-09
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