Scintillating hazel jewels trapped in ink-laced anxiety. Authentic identity performance as an oxymoron. The greedy, lapping tide of expectations shoved into tidal recession by sheer willpower. Evenings spent rewriting new endings for old and well-read chapters. On curated pages of parchment with fresh margins and duplicated textures. A pliant pocket of predictable persistence, perforated with a stitch-surgeon's skill. It's all so familiar, except where it's different. A spiral-circling vulture-hawk. An arrowed triad of waterfowl. White lines of froth highlight fluid brown crests. The unheavy weight of fabric and flesh on a lazily braced leg. Chanting birds. Whorling eddies.
3:53 p.m. - 2023-12-08
Recent entries:
The Mark of Sharp Objects - 2023-12-27
There's Just Not Enough Ice - 2023-12-15
Amongst the Sick and Infirm - 2023-12-15
Maybe That's Actually Enough For A While - 2023-12-08
Shame-Proof - 2023-12-08
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