hiding from the rain
She closes the window. I wasn't paying attention anyway, I'm getting cold, and the birds are nowhere to be seen. I go inside.
somewhere between instagram and chatgpt
I am below everything.
Can I see
plato
I wonder if she knew I was down there listening? I wonder if she would've said something more true, more personal, more raw, more heartfelt, more harsh, more seductive, more freeing, more exposing, more risky, more romantic, more rude, more honest, more anything, if there hadn't been an audience.
yeah
lol
abrar?
we need to be deconstructing our identities
I'm trying to picture the scene inside, like I was trying to picture the scene in the tree.
that looks like my instagram account
no longer writing in the third person
division of reality is straying away from it
you cannot feed someone language, they have to speak
that is unstable and lets me operate in that discovery mode that i can create within and also produce works from.
i have read not even 1 book