Returning to bruised cobblestones under a color-drained sky. Back to admire the handiwork of prefrontal beatings. The dark place just in front of all of our teeth. Scarcely held in abeyance by purple lips. Familiar-shaped corpses with bloated faces littering nonexistant gutters. The faint odor of antiseptics and lavender. Overwrought checkerboard promises sung by faraway angels. Wincing at the hubris of old carvings rediscovered. Just behind my ears, a violet meridian whisper: "You may want to avert your eyes."
4:58 p.m. - 2021-01-13
Recent entries:
Overdue Deluge - 2021-01-27
Eagledreams - 2021-01-20
Depletion - 2021-01-20
Nonauguration - 2021-01-20
Cliq-cloq - 2021-01-13
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