Rinsing away nauseas in the wake of a dead river. The smell of overripe warmth and unsuccessful spawning. A sharp-billed goose watches over it's shoulder, while we both dodge tardy pockets of fall slough. Cultivating a routine of foolish ulcers. Decanting synthetic peaches, and the silent shattering of twice-folded glass, before the welcome of starvation as the climax.
4:41 p.m. - 2022-09-29
Recent entries:
Strung Out Consequences - 2022-10-12
A Task Done but Unfinished - 2022-10-05
Absentee Glymphatic Exile - 2022-10-05
Redux For Someone Else - 2022-09-29
Compromised Impulse Control - 2022-09-29
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