Filing mental teeth into deliriums laced with moonglove and gray matter. Hands curled into talons that don't work. A beautiful blonde woman stops me in the cold of my derealizations. Her mouth moves past the inkiness in her glasses. I cannot hear her over the music playing in my head. I stop and smile, confused. She laughs and waves at the air. The story ends at the curve in the pavement. Ostensibly ground up and ground down with tiny fragments of my soul.
4:10 p.m. - 2023-04-06
Recent entries:
Underwhelming Manufacturing - 2023-05-04
A Malignant Fatigue - 2023-04-21
Present Observations I - 2023-04-14
Forbidden Combine - 2023-04-14
Concluded Psychobiological Experimentation - 2023-04-06
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