Hundreds and hundreds of miles chipped away under rubber concentration. The company of an old, favorite dessert at right hand's length. Seeing many things, wondrous to behold. Skeletons of abandoned greenhouses, ribs splayed obscenely against junkfield wastelands. A barren orchard of leaning trees, praying to a vanished god amongst a sea of dead grass. A deserted, rotting stable. Every dehydrated memory gilded in blonde streaks. Weeks of haiku material etched into a Grain that doesn't exist. Unless through the focused deliberation of fighting biology.
12:03 a.m. - 2018-09-26
Recent entries:
Hair-strand of God - 2018-10-09
Slice of Divine - 2018-10-01
No Different - 2018-10-01
Lines-to-Land - 2018-09-26
Ninety Nine Reprieves - 2018-09-26
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