Fount of Folly

Nausea wraps me in her acidic crush — what is it I said, this time? It is a perpetual question, careening within my skull; what could it have possibly been? I retrace my steps, kneel upon the scuffs and streaks of my history.

In peering deeply, unity is exterminated. Staring at a single grain of sand magnetizes your perception; the grain becomes the entire universe. The shape of it comes to completion, round and round, and it swallows…

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A Pelagic Omen. My tome of mind sketches.

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C.A. Martinez

C.A. Martinez

A Pelagic Omen. My tome of mind sketches.

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