Weeping whispers from the bottom of a bottle. A malaise of indifferent-ambivalence tracked on a sturdy sine wave. Unsteady steps to a horizontal heaven. Dilated pupils becoming pinpoint stars, and back again into yawning attention. Reading the disavowed in the shape of the unsaid. Extracting the words of Alone from static texts, and trying to incise them into the troughs and crests of memory. The taste of nitrous ,cast in wan light of introversion. And slowly-- steadily-- suturing schedules into stability.
3:26 p.m. - 2023-06-01
Recent entries:
The Charm of the Third - 2023-06-23
Again Another - 2023-06-16
Perhaps the Last - 2023-06-15
Games. Man. Ship. - 2023-06-08
From Back to Back - 2023-06-08
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