Summoned by demand, she arrives in beaten tennis shoes and ill-fitting sweats. A bag full of required apparel over her shoulder. Eyes cleanly painted with thick black wings. She has come to work, with an appreciation and enthusiasm made from carefully carved plastic. A Zen circle on her shoulder turns purple from the tyranny of compliance. Hours of being pulverized into a pulpy mass, she serves in silence. Her only reprieves found momentarily at the bottom of a cheap water bottle. As the sun sets, limping and wordless, she is dismissed.
10:54 p.m. - 2020-05-27
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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