Mindless harems washing ashore on oceans of stained concrete. They distract from invisible blood-oil stains. Dissolving my amygdala one zazen at a time. Quiet contemplation in storefronts with dead windows. Their insides scoured and clean and hollow; the stores are empty, too. The deep regret of missed piano recitals carried around with me. From childhood, all through middle-age. I don't even play.
4:17 p.m. - 2022-02-09
Recent entries:
Nagging Sensation - 2022-02-24
The Gasping of Sleep - 2022-02-24
Better Than Divorce, I Guess - 2022-02-21
Out Of Obligation - 2022-02-09
Writing Desk - 2022-02-09
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