Arcade
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The Scattering

Anything that takes effort I back away from. Everything is overwhelming. Breathing is overwhelming. These persistent thoughts are overwhelming. I can’t talk. I’m like an inanimate object, a cubicle clown at an abandoned arcade from the 80s. The wind rolls through the electric canals, trash strewn on the currents, dust from the desert mountains, memories… Continue reading
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The Lonely Arcade

Shattered windows cry like Sunday peacocks warning of the impending doom of glass Continue reading
