Reunions with casual filth and rising welts that last well into exhaustion. Grappling with heat exhaustion in error. The syncopation of trysts make for sinewave thoughts. Crushing my own brain under a mass of oscillation. A gallon of human-shaped obligation, floating three inches off the ground. As the mountain rises to meet you. Days long riddled with resigned resentment, finally broken with aspirational apical apotheosis. All subjugated to Dread. Muted, buried dread.
5:44 p.m. - 2022-07-15
Recent entries:
Little Girl Knives - 2022-07-28
Twilight Swimming - 2022-07-28
Too Much, Too Much - 2022-07-22
A Week of Trysts - 2022-07-22
Perhaps It's Perspective - 2022-07-18
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