Smashed and empty storefronts along miles of concrete daydreams. Not a single scrap of newspaper or tissue to be found. Wet lumps of lung tissue shining accusingly from the sidewalks. Masses of unwashed and unmanaged children barrel past burning schools, like a Lord of the Flies Redux. Freshly hung posters of red eyes and a keyhole-pupil as a masque for courtesy bias. Compassion fade slowly bleaching the long tails of every discarded receipt. Brittle lives put under the strain of an Act of God. Fractured art inspired by tragedies.
3:09 p.m. - 2020-03-18
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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