Cheerful torments in countless trips around the sun. A cogwheel of a moon that doesn't give a fuck about us. Sinuses filled with ink. A liver jigsawed into marble. The retching of drying rivers. Hands counting down, from thirteen to nothing. Every winter takes a little longer to warm. And then summer comes to melt the hubris. All that remains is the knot of lies we froze in countless tomorrows.
5:30 p.m. - 2022-02-09
Recent entries:
A Pop Bomb - 2022-03-04
Poor Judge Mint - 2022-03-04
Nagging Sensation - 2022-02-24
The Gasping of Sleep - 2022-02-24
Better Than Divorce, I Guess - 2022-02-21
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