Abandoning the weight of shadows in the breast of familiar trails. The moon shrouded in ink and threats. Weakly stacked stones, and sweat that falls as the rain. Tall knots of growing weeds, bizarrely spaced into gatherable clumps. A ghostly couple sitting by a creekbed, shoulder-to-shoulder, and haloed by a branch-hung lamp. The smell of petrichor and mulch blooming in the early California chill. Contaminated noctiluminescence hides the stars from all of us who don't deserve it.
5:19 p.m. - 2021-10-21
Recent entries:
As Since Always - 2021-11-04
Return to Capricious Consideration - 2021-11-04
Irrelevant Entropic Overload - 2021-11-04
Because, Instead Of Rather-Than - 2021-10-28
A Relative Drizzle - 2021-10-28
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