Coma oscillations under the hidden light of an eclipse. Stealing away snippets of unlived life from oligarchs, and stashing them in tomorrows. The staccato clack of morse-code romance, tangled in unknown amplitudes. Words beside words beside the negative space between the temples. The duality of nausea. Strung out on the long lines of sophomorism. A weekend of stormy sunlight, blanched into blandness. Just let me sleep.
4:26 p.m. - 2022-05-19
Recent entries:
Yellow and Gold and Honey - 2022-06-02
Bone Broth - 2022-06-02
Unordered Expectations - 2022-05-27
Milk and Oatmeal - 2022-05-27
More of Less - 2022-05-27
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