plaaate

plaaate

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fires to kill spirit down into a something revolting stinking, molding and your ambition's fueled by the spurrings of the physical, visual cues are only there to quake the faith into minds.

spine

rickety boes don't show the honing splinters, ticking lower into inner dank cavities split down the back, a rack of ribs that live in spinal condos.

train

it was really cozy so long ago, huddling in the dark, curtains, in public like I'd always wanted but really just a strong first step (to which there was no second) and we arrived in the dark as we still are.

up in it, thoughts are contagious and not fleeting if they're also tied and woven into everything, you don't realize it but they're where normality is, all wrapped together unfortunately.

I find my light by the swingshine and in it you can dance like the moths the little fireflies or slump down and out of the into the dark

writing since 1969 · 21 entries · 21 days shown up

each square is a day—lit means Sara showed up.

2longest streak

21days written

0entries / week

on this day 18 years ago

Sara wrote about hill
“on top of the lonely hill there was one sheep. and the sheep said "baa" and I said "sounds nice" and then I did.”

the words Sara reaches for

hopesparkdarkshineholdlongersheepwingseffortspreadwaitingcatchfaithminutestophe'll