A starless night in back-alley wilderness. A stones-throw away from manufactured opulence. It never gets cold in California. Not really, truly, bitterly cold. Maybe it's the endless corporate napalm of greedy neglect. In the dark, a scrabble and a snarl. Two too fat raccoons scamper across an abandoned bridge. One chasing the other apathetically. Giving up with a snort, the loser grumbles through it's slink back. A deep and abiding loneliness hums somewhere over the horizon. Beneath vaguely-faded black. I hitch up a hammock and prepare to sleep for a thousand years in a thin swath of untainted wilderness.
12:33 a.m. - 2019-11-21
Recent entries:
Thanking the Pandemonium - 2020-11-26
Simplicity of Sometimes - 2020-11-25
Bubblebeams - 2020-11-18
Red Blue Green Purple - 2020-11-11
Too Young to Descend - 2020-11-11
My profile
Archives
Notes
Diaryland
Random
RSS
others:
Bridgecity
Babyhead
Murder
Blubbles
Frostopia
HumHum
Secret-motel
ATwoWayDream