kind of mythopoesis

IWGD

I'm in a crowded lift and a girl I've never met tells me she thinks she might love me.
The lift won't stop at any floor, and I can't talk in front of all these people.

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.

It Will Get Lighter

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch


no longer writing in the third person

abrar?

nope. i only remember the leaves bristling behind the window during chemistry class

stalgivc is the greatest poster of all time

i really havent

yeah people dont get it they assume its ahnaf

whats your name?

isaac newton

we need to be deconstructing our identities