Style

Picture

The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.

Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.

It's

dusk

in a snowy forest and I'm playing with a fox.
It bites my wrist but there is only a dull ache.
I feel that it wants to say sorry but can't. I die.

13, H, grate

but really the thing should be autonomous

in a post. I want to be remembered

i see a website though something that reconfigures or is mazelike

part of an old note. It will get lighter.

no longer writing in the third person

Tue, 02 Dec 2025 11:29:50

Sun, 02 Nov 2025 23:49:08

hiding from the rain