The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.
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.
She says something that isn't really right but isn't really wrong. I'm not taking in their words any more, just their voices, trying to get a feel for whatever is going on between them. I'm imagining what it's like for them in this delicate situation, what I would say if it were me. She has that perfect upper-class accent, and she's using whatever upper-class tact that comes with it to navigate this. Style. They can't be together, but their voices are betraying them.
Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.
I am below everything.
no longer writing in the third person
thank you
yeah
have you read
Thank you for telling me that I'm failing to see how I'm reproducing the dynamics I'm trying to critique by only describing my Korean colleague / fresh meat and the black girl in relation to others and myself.
god being the centre magnet
all that is to say
barren land
your feed looks like my tumblr
Mon, 01 Dec 2025 23:38:15
is everyoneback on tumblr now
its good
The slug lives in my bathroom. I only see it in the early hours of the morning, when I'm not quite right.
whats your name?
you know who you are. no more time, not like
1
. way too specific.what do you mean
idk
in a way what we are really interested in with pedagogy is the magnetisation