Lotuses gilded with the eyeshadow of good intentions. Heated words exchanged through poorly-drafted letters. A broken hand as a psychic damper. Duplicitous youth with an energy that is borderline, and infinite. All trysts held in abeyance during a sabbatical of solitude. Hard-acquired wealth squandered on First World Extravagances, masquerading as middle class. It was all so different. And then it once again became the same. It was inevitable.
11:04 p.m. - 2019-05-29
Recent entries:
Blister of the Blissed - 2019-06-17
A Summer Sunday Scene - 2019-06-10
Displaced - 2019-06-10
Frog and Scorpion - 2019-06-06
Sarcomancy - 2019-06-05
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