Miles of dust beneath unsecured floorboards. The pelts of dead cats buried in the backyard. Nailing the windows closed from the inside. Alone with newly-unbottled thoughts and a distinct lack of humility. Labored breathing through an ocean of compunctions. Writing goodbye letters to every child I didn't conceive. Sleepless fortnights under the jagged caresses of butterscotch lungs. The inoculation of youth has been gone for years. I just never noticed until recently.
7:57 p.m. - 2020-04-01
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
My profile
Archives
Notes
Diaryland
Random
RSS
others:
Bridgecity
Babyhead
Murder
Blubbles
Frostopia
HumHum
Secret-motel
ATwoWayDream