The hundredth sprain on a knee already filled with blood-red seaweed. Papering over the pain with authority. Conversations that fade into the empty silence of an orphaned friendship. Wringing porn-star orgasms from a babbling mess-- by way of secretly-desired force. Eating ten-minute meals that took hours to prepare. Taro ice cream and apricot massages before the sleep of the dead. Small slices of life divvied out like iron rations. Memorizing the questions to emotional responses. Realizing it's so easy to lose track of the months without a charcoal pencil.
12:13 p.m. - 2018-08-27
Recent entries:
Stuff of NIghtmares - 2018-09-10
Memphis Conjecture - 2018-09-10
Out of State - 2018-09-03
Plenty - 2018-09-03
Dirty Yellow, Smudged Platinum - 2018-09-03
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