Sky blue zoplicones for the rest of your life. A harp playing somewhere in the distance. A memory of warm pink centers and garlic buttered tenderloins. Bliss found firmly in the center of every room. Marveling at magnificence with closed eyes. A forced switch to dexedrine and sleepless nights. Bloodshot eyes and hundreds of wall-tacked newspapers. Strung together with the encryption of pink yarn spiderwebs. Reaching for empty charcoal bottles in the middle of the night. They never help.
5:21 p.m. - 2020-01-15
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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