1292.

A Dali painting
come to life. Eyes cast to slow
surreality.

1291.

Every moment just
turned back from beauty in a
cynic's weary view.

1290.

Clouds become anchors
set for a constant hanging.
Idealism's end.

1289.

A slow crawl toward
inexorable futures.
The depressive's dream.

1288.

Spring is already
wearing heavy this year. A
miasma of change.

1287.

The only savior
in any story, always,
is the narrator.

1286.

A lesson there for
everyone. Grouped and singles,
victimizers all.

1285.

The perfect fodder
for destruction to get feet
and thus momentum.

1284.

A confused state of
play, when safety becomes a
steady presumptive.

1283.

Who saves the soul when
the owner is intended
as the killer too?

1282.

The machines inside
left to a persistent stage
of a forced drowning.

1281.

A will persists in
terms of destruction here. Spears
turned inward, stabbing.

1280.

We are all fools in
this heart's design of constant
beating. Masochist.

1279.

Just a mask of need
cast to imagination
and desperate hope.