"Put a blanket."
One of the birds shoots out of the tree.
Above and in front two birds are darting in and out of a tree. Sometimes they collide to fight or maybe mate, but I can't really make it out in the low light. It's just after
dusk
, I have nothing to do, I'm watching them, trying to figure it out.Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.
your feed looks like my tumblr
And thank you for telling me that the manner in which the narrator consistently fails to act morally is really compelling. Fuck you.
have you read
idk
Can I see
was it worth it
Windrush Art Kid Oligarch
barren land
feel you
god "possessing" artists "possessing" people
i don't really want to be associated with that one for some reason
there's probably something in that, but I don't feel like thinking about it too much yet.