Slowly shrinking mirrors on the California asphalt. The threat of bloated gray horizons. Palms and wrists taped with badly smudged cotton. Accessorized with the pale pink spatters of scars. The maze of handrails are solid and cold. A slate brick shears off in my hands, the plate starbursting on the concrete. Searching half-frozen pipes for potable water during sunset. A handful of ravens watch and remember my face. A razorblade stained mottled orange with rust, but only on one side. The other side goes into my pocket, as a memento of missing youth.
3:12 p.m. - 2020-12-16
Recent entries:
Evening Glories - 2020-12-31
Hangboard - 2020-12-31
Merry Happiness - 2020-12-23
Sorry, Songbird - 2020-12-23
Worldly Dairyfarm - 2020-12-16
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