Dusty vinyl in the boxiness of cloth rooms. Ripe cotton blankets frayed with milky mucus. The deep staccato coughs of inconvenience in perfect lockstep with the music. Revisiting last year, and the decade before, in the same fifteen-second snare cascade. Finding half-hardened lemons in a moldy crisper drawer. Perfect for partially-peeled thumbs. Scavenging for diamonds in noise. Trading them away for tiny sound-pixels. All as a proxy for determination, and the resistance to change. In another-- less foolish-- life, I barter for just ten more years of Now. The moon cannot hear me, and cannot remember to care.
1:19 p.m. - 2021-08-27
Recent entries:
As An Easy Gallop Upwards - 2021-07-10
A Confluence of Names - 2021-09-10
Evaporation of Direction - 2021-09-10
Delta Go-Around - 2021-09-03
Soap-stuck shadows - 2021-08-27
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