The smog of a setting sun frames bare branches. A thin and stationary hummingbird masquerades as unbloomed shoots. It's trilling is lilting and complex. Juxtaposed against the still and sterile concrete. An earned layer of frost down my spine. Daydreaming about stolen baths just over the horizon. Thin light evaporating over filthy bedsheets. Falling into fevered sleep. Dreaming about COVID-19, and the way it will blossom like a hummingbird leaving it's perch. And the falling petals in the central valley.
12:12 p.m. - 2020-03-04
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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