hiding from the rain

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

the textwall is as much for me as it is for you

somewhere between instagram and chatgpt

in a post. I want to be remembered

Lift Analysis

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

but really the thing should be autonomous

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.

kind of mythopoesis

that is unstable and lets me operate in that discovery mode that i can create within and also produce works from.

something religious, a kind of complex,

it will get lighter