Gnawing on bones in the husk of a burned-out sedan. Muscles calcifying under old age and ambient windchill. Every winter, the warm-ups take a little bit longer with of the cold. They never get shorter, even after the snows turn gray. Getting accidentally drunk on suspect hibiscus tea. The edges of my life bending a little under uncorrupted starlight. In the evening, the hysteria seems so very far away. Every once a while, spotting a group of children. Huddled together on the rooftops as shelter against the world. God bless them.
3:45 p.m. - 2020-11-11
Recent entries:
Merry Happiness - 2020-12-23
Sorry, Songbird - 2020-12-23
Worldly Dairyfarm - 2020-12-16
The Oxidization of Life - 2020-12-16
Playing with playthings - 2020-12-09
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