Running beneath obscured stars in the adolescent evening. Empty parks with barren trees in early winter. Outpacing the slow and inevitable decay for a little while longer. Offerings of discarded plastic and copper as symbolism of sincerity. And as a show of similarly broken brains. A slow and agonizing pleasure compressed into moments. Swallowed whole by the warmth and the darkness of escapism. The echoes have stitched themselves into the walls, not so very long afterwards.
11:13 a.m. - 2018-12-20
Recent entries:
A Year and Some Change - 2019-01-07
Shooting Off - 2018-12-31
Blockface - 2018-12-25
- - - - - - - - - - 2018-12-20
Distor-Bit - 2018-12-20
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