Time becoming an abstract and arbitrary smear, used to sketch out an utterly useless and mostly mandatory hex-ward against sleep. Sifting through the iconography of nostalgia, grown both precious and valuable in the decades of hedonism. Locked out of fantasy kingdoms by the watchful eyes of consumerist capitalism. Stepping away from the prison bars of moving pictures. And rejection of electronic, hind-brain outrage. The rapid and predictable implosion of fuzzy infatuation. As divined. New knots in old bones. A shortfall of synthetic joy. Crushing sunrise and sunset together into a gelatin of unconsciousness. Scathing syllables of scolding. The discovery of badly-hidden burglary. Additional admonishments. Regeneration. Sleep.
6:39 p.m. - 2024-02-02
Recent entries:
Absent a Confessional Booth - 2024-02-23
Counties and Bylines - 2024-02-16
Repetitions Within Repetition - 2024-02-16
Too-short Summarization - 2024-02-02
A Reunion of Practice - 2024-02-02
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