Half-comprehensible messages from the past slipped under the floorboards. Streaked with the sincerity of coal dust. Halting one-way confessions as a distraction, a shield. The words are always a defense against oneself. Frantic activity in opposition to change. Shelves full of spine-cracked ledgers, growing more and more thick with notations. Years of work shoveled into a fireplace and incinerated in a vacuum of long-depleted gratitude. Struggling to escape the margins, with loneliness as the prize.
4:28 p.m. - 2022-03-23
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