Scenic drives not so far from the concrete tidal waves. Rolling lowlands that flirt with marsh. Skies stained with sprinting raincloud smears. Tinted the same ominous shade as the ashen deathdreams of California wildfires. A lazy hawk entertains fantasies of condorism, as it circles lazily above livestock huddled into the corner of a pen. Being jolted awake by sheer holistic verisimilitude, punctuated by synthetic, drunken right angles. A moment lasting an iota of infinity. Sluiced from a memory hole, transmuted into pixelated wordthings.
11:38 p.m. - 2019-02-14
Recent entries:
Sashaying Children - 2019-02-27
A Termination - 2019-02-27
The Lies of No Strings - 2019-02-20
To Speak Easily - 2019-02-20
Pauper's Grave - 2019-02-20
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