Scraping insights from the sweat on a dirty garage floor. A film of discipline as a veil against shame. And an endless parade of lovers for which I'm simply not good enough. One hundred thousand hoodwinks. Retreating to satire and mockery without missing an exhalation. The shame of late night vitriol played back by candlelight. Squirming away from the guilt, like an acquitted convict. Passing over in silence the freedom behind closed eyes. The loathing grows with a procrastinated and malignant rage. Some day I'll be sixty, and none of it will have ever been enough.
4:17 p.m. - 2021-10-28
Recent entries:
Unstopperism - 2021-11-12
Five Musings - 2021-11-12
As Since Always - 2021-11-04
Return to Capricious Consideration - 2021-11-04
Irrelevant Entropic Overload - 2021-11-04
My profile
Archives
Notes
Diaryland
Random
RSS
others:
Life-My-Way
Swordfern
Babyhead
Bridgecity
Blubbles
Murder
Secret-motel
ATwoWayDream
HumHum
Frostopia