Daffni Ginger


The day slips away into whatever tomorrow will become. This mind of mine has grown wings and lifted off between pillars of fire. It’s not in the clouds though it’s somewhere else, somewhere people drink and fuck and don’t wash properly. That’s where it must be because when it returns every once in a while it’s filthy. He’d be so proud. And even though it returns more disgusting than when it left me, I leave my writings for tomorrow. I’m ashamed of it. But this ticker is still ticking and the bath is still broken so here I am at my desk dreaming of lavender scented salt and his smile. I have a good life. It could be much much worse. And tomorrow in the blink of an eye it could all crumble to dust, never to be seen again. You’d think knowing that would make me less lazy and…

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