Coistered evenings of latex and paint. Extracting fear from pixels to be worn during the murder of Russian gangsters. Hiding myself away from intimacy with mouthfuls of selfishness. The underwhelming aftertaste of mediocrity. Colorful bottles half-full of regret emptied into the dead corners of the backyard. Foraging for sustenance without urgency. Days of partial starvation staved off by emptiness. Trips to foreign places filled with faces upon faces. Some of which come to haunt my middle-aged dreams. Retreating to the quiet and predictable echoes of home. And a single recording set to repeat for days at a time, to help squander my greedily claimed hours.
3:59 p.m. - 2022-11-18
Recent entries:
+145 BPM - 2022-12-01
Fuzzy Growths - 2022-12-01
Chapter: Sigma - 2022-11-25
Too Full for Timely Gratitude - 2022-11-25
Many Faces Upon Faces - 2022-11-18
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