Vibration in the green tint of solitary midnight impotence. Bones slowly rusting from overuse. Tendons pulled apart by tape and insomnia. The ecstasy of distant parking lots, emptied by the human condition. Tiny hopeful hearts gilded with misunderstanding. Offered for a scant few hours and inviting reciprocation. And then withdrawn. The dissipating background drone of asphyxiating relationships. But that's alright; they aren't real, of course. No more real than actionless self-image. They all reside in totally separate planes of existence. Draped in the gaudy finery of words words words. And here, the mad genius McLuhan: "Most people never communicate in their entire lives. They think what they say is communication. Communication is the effect of what you say."
5:22 p.m. - 2023-11-13
Recent entries:
Shame-Proof - 2023-12-08
A Heretofore Brisk Exchange - 2023-12-08
Poor-Choice Tinkering - 2023-11-27
Heart Hiccups - 2023-11-21
Ill-advised Deflection - 2023-11-21
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