WInnowing my life through gulps of oblivion and the memory of headaches. Handfuls of ice under shaded stars, and tasting mismatching colors in the dark. A week of nothings, perpetually skipping like a vinyl needle. Widening the gaps in my heart with a Finochietto retractor. The distance is always just shy of enough. Does burgeoning enlightenment feel like growing hopelessness? Shaving away bits of ego feel the same as drinking mouthfuls of meaningless void?
1:22 p.m. - 2022-09-21
Recent entries:
Compromised Impulse Control - 2022-09-29
Attempt to Pre-empt - 2022-09-29
What Is It For Nought? - 2022-09-23
A Tilted Frown - 2022-09-23
For A LIttle While Longer At Least - 2022-09-22
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