Garden Post-Dusk, Birds Above, In Another Life

but it is in my head and am i compelled to realise it, so it is my silmarillion, my tempelos

FOUNDING DOCUMENT

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

13 | | | H | | | . . . . | . . . . | . . . . | . . . . | |

"Anyway, you're you. I mean, look at you!" she says. "You could get with anyone, anyone in the street. Really."

the point of this was to try and avoid this narcissistic death spiral I'm in by acting anonymously and impulsively. how can that feeling that even Jack can't describe paralyse me if my name isn't next to any of this? the excitement of believing I just need a new process has overcome me and I have cummed out an empty webpage.

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.

There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

"Put a blanket."