Vibration in the ever-present tinnitus. Echoes in the clouds to remind me of my place; it's here, alone in an existential nest, unfailingly behind. I blink into calloused knuckles,. Scraping together enough focus for a paradigm shift. Meaning desperately wrung from the infinite constellations of words. Laying back and trying a new, un-dogeared book. The sheets smell of anxiety and expired sunblock. Biding my time for nothing. There is only ever now, and I am rarely there.
4:28 p.m. - 2021-07-15
Recent entries:
No Mystery Here - 2021-07-29
A Sanctuary on High - 2021-07-29
A Shell House - 2021-07-21
Welcome Back Spasm - 2021-07-21
Maybe Just Shut Your Fucking Mouth - 2021-07-15
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