Entire weekends vanishing under pale daylight. Bloody percussion as a motif. The malaise of hangovers as the dizzy space between days. Fragility of first meetings, dissolving illusions like unfired clay. You're batting way above your league. And way beyond your prime. Meanwhile, across town, a slow-motion trainwreck folds in on itself. Derailing in the borderline space between lip hoops and abandonment. But you can't do anything other than watch, unless you want to become a greasy red smear. And so it goes.
4:32 p.m. - 2022-05-27
Recent entries:
Midlife Inflammation Precisely On Time - 2022-06-09
Yellow and Gold and Honey - 2022-06-02
Yellow and Gold and Honey - 2022-06-02
Yellow and Gold and Honey - 2022-06-02
Bone Broth - 2022-06-02
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