The collapse of breath from empty sinuses. Joy draining from blood six-times-thick. The loneliness from some time in the future breaks with etiquette, and invites itself to stay for a while. The sticky heat of tedium. Practicing goodbyes in the thin reflection of filthy mirrors. The last one out the door in a panic in the name of consideration. And disposability. Dissociation against the revealed backdrop of nothing. Finding an enduring solace of poxen blankets in writhing-bough fortresses. With mumbled pleasantries bringing a reprieve of smiles.
12:21 p.m. - 2023-09-08
Recent entries:
Future Math on the Floor - 2023-10-20
The Compulsion of Opening Picks - 2023-10-06
A Sequel to Pauses - 2023-10-06
Cram As Nourishment - 2023-09-29
Cartographic Riding Without a Mount - 2023-09-22
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