A note gilded with tears, beside a pool of emptied stomach. Good morning. Mild apologies in a perfunctory explanation, written by a hand with unnaturally long fingers. Unable to even muster eyebrows up. Just a distracted shrug to frame the crumpling. Tossing the letter into a slowly growing pyramid of similar paper notes in the fireplace. More and more, the telltale signs of people drowning in their debt. The debt of having borrowed against their own futures, without having put in any of the work to have paid down the dreams. In the mid-afternoon, I curl into ratty-but-clean-blankets, and treat myself to the opulence of a nap.
11:41 p.m. - 2020-06-10
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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