much more tactility

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.

with this post net clarity and the hours of nothing that followed I realise this is going to be awful.

I am below everything.

Better Lift

One of the birds shoots out of the tree.

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

Style

Picture

Sun, 23 Nov 2025 10:37:17

"Put a blanket."

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

I'm trying to picture the scene inside, like I was trying to picture the scene in the tree.

a lot of what i've been doing has been some imaginary screenshot or recording of his website, something that could be found within it

The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.

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.

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

Today I felt like starting

Worse Lift

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

Mon, 03 Nov 2025 08:38:49