Running through derelict industrial backyards. Broken concrete and patches of brown grass for miles and miles. A handful of feathers strewn about by a careless god. The broken corpse of a wild turkey. Vineyards and dirt-clod dust just over the horizon. The other way, shanty-towns of cardboard and broken furniture. A sclerosized monument of cracked and faded toys. Handfuls of bikes dotting the edges of a train yard. Testament to those The System has failed. Zombies shuffling between bent and rusted carts, mumbling inaudibly about words. I'm just a tourist, preserving this moment in my dreams.
9:37 a.m. - 2019-10-23
Recent entries:
Another Broken Trip - 2019-11-06
Purple Glass Facets - 2019-11-06
Flat Sine WaVE - 2019-11-06
Some Advice - 2019-10-30
Librum Infinitum - 2019-10-30
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