Joyless dunes of dirty snow, for miles against the sun. Syncopated melodies just below the apex of chiseled mountains. Ears full of absentee clouds. The last bastions of scenery melting away into right-angle asphalt. A return to tacky sculptures and perpendicular architecture after years of synthetic illness. The same drab hallways still haunted by stale cigarette smoke and the ghosts of vacancy. Sinuses packed beyond capacity. Long days and short evenings of host-fatigue. The middle path of not enough sleep. Bittersweet pockets of pouting pets and charming blue. A familiar diorama of layered disinterest. Searching for a ghost of haunting beauty among the paintings. She remains locked in the distant memory of dreams. Dreams of lost opportunities. Sometimes there is no choice for Late. There is only Never.
3:46 p.m. - 2023-05-04
Recent entries:
Two Plus Two Equals Eighteen - 2023-05-26
Stilted Summarization - 2023-05-18
Twenty-Six Hours - 2023-05-17
Clarity of (Lost) Vision - 2023-05-04
It Will Only Get Worse - 2023-05-04
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