Wringing nausea from a strikethrough life. The abeyance of hedonism, before the fury of dissociation. Greasy drizzle on the shores of rivers sluggish with gluttony. Blisters on my soul from one thousand swallowed mouthfuls of raging bile. A growing disinterest in the spirit-saving properties of alcoholism. It all just boils down to homeostatic, synthetically-flavored cirrhosis in the aggregate.
4:59 p.m. - 2022-06-09
Recent entries:
Apextheosis - 2022-06-30
Cooking Oil - 2022-06-23
The Bland Taste of All That's Left - 2022-06-23
Mild Mayhem - 2022-06-17
Missing Gold Standard - 2022-06-09
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