The syncopation of Morse Code exchanges. Every other day, receipts of obligation waiting in the space between the lights. Reading reports of smoke-filled clinics and shifty patients. Handfuls of pills to ensure privacy. The rain offers no reprieve, while extending gray obfuscation. Prying the heavens open with raw fingers. The static lessens, and the channels improve. Oft-repeated confessions whispered in sub-audible frequencies. Quiet enough to claim plausible deniability. Loud enough to disperse dissonance. Di-di-di-dah-di-dah.
10:08 p.m. - 2019-02-27
Recent entries:
Alliteration Capacity - 2019-03-05
She Shant - 2019-03-04
Difficulties at Eleven - 2019-02-27
Heart Transplant - 2019-02-27
Sashaying Children - 2019-02-27
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