I know that if I try to make this entry any more than it is I will ruin it.
I am below everything.
there's probably something in that, but I don't feel like thinking about it too much yet.
no longer writing in the third person
with this post net clarity and the hours of nothing that followed I realise this is going to be awful.
I wonder if the birds knew I was watching?
Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.
One of the birds shoots out of the tree.
There is a pause. She ashes her cigarette. It falls on me. It seems like the birds have stopped too.
Hours staring at the ceiling, the wall, curling up into a ball. It seems annoyed with the light, it kind of recoils. It will get lighter. I wonder where it goes in the day.
the site i am dreaming
bro i read nothing in my life