Nuts and bolts and beads for the weeks that never come. Daydreaming of new stories even as the ink dries in unfinished margins. The unshared joy of anonymity and intrinsicism. (No, that's not a word, but you knew what I meant.) A left-handed evolution into bonding-ring leashes and forced-closed mouths. Bifurcation of answers and emptiness, shoved into the intersection of parietal and occipital. One thousand piercing needles in the church of home surgery is one solution, or the other.
4:26 p.m. - 2021-12-17
Recent entries:
Grape Fruit Grain Neurosis - 2022-01-07
Slow Lung Death - 2021-12-31
The Day After Liquid - 2021-12-31
Increasingly Obvious - 2021-12-24
Ex More at Four Oh - 2021-12-24
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