An aftertaste of orange rinds and peach pits. Filthy sapphire glassware as a metaphor for willpower. Unexumed and warily regarded. Distilling dead relationships from guilt and humors. The ghosts of abandoned conversations haunting an infinity of cluelessly sightless. Ledgers of envy in the throats of the inoculated. Scarlet shin streaks and days of thigh welts disabuse me of any notion other than my increasing obsolescence. Waiting for the weekend to come. And then, to go. So much wasted time?
5:41 p.m. - 2022-07-28
Recent entries:
Sometimes These Things Happen - 2022-08-11
An Endless Period of Adjustment - 2022-08-11
An Inventory of Unvocation - 2022-08-05
Forty One Others - 2022-08-05
Sharp-Edged Angles - 2022-08-05
My profile
Archives
Notes
Diaryland
Random
RSS
others:
Blubbles
Swordfern
NormalToilet
Life-My-Way
Bridgecity
Babyhead
Murder
Frostopia
HumHum
Secret-motel
ATwoWayDream