A return to 20-year nostalgias. The same fears and maladaptive coping mechanisms still waiting from years ago. Hidden like corrupted code beneath pixels and hours. The back of aging hands running out of room for tattooed reminders. Like Leonard Shelby after a decade of searching. Remember Kathryn Lynn Morton in plain-script permanence. Row after column after lane of procrastination. Justified ad hoc infinitum. This is my life. The things that continue to happen, while I wait for the moments that never come.
9:25 p.m. - 2019-12-25
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
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