Carving slices of sky with bare hands. Fingers dusted with pollen and missing rain. Emerald carpets coaxing leaves from switches. Shoots pulled gently downward over the weeks, like a magician's handkerchief from a living wooden pocket. Scrubbing a rusted sink until my knuckles are red with atonement. Digging through an overfull closet for an old surgical mask. I sketch a scary face on the pseudo-fabric with ink from the blooddrinker quill. It's to scare more than the viruses away.
12:22 a.m. - 2020-02-27
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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