yeah

i see a website though something that reconfigures or is mazelike

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

Thu, 06 Nov 2025 23:18:46

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

She closes the window. I wasn't paying attention anyway, I'm getting cold, and the birds are nowhere to be seen. I go inside.

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.

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

but i respect your search

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

it exists in my head in some way that i'm trying to get out i lied on my story a little bit because i'm mostly feeling it and thinking about it. feeling something deeply doesn't necessitate any kind of deep relevance or whatever but the thinking is useful

hiding from the rain

After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting

        13       |
                |
                |
            H   |
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. . . .         |
. . . .         |
. . . .         |
. . . .         |
                |

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

Lift Analysis

Today I felt like starting

I wonder if she knew I was down there listening? I wonder if she would've said something more true, more personal, more raw, more heartfelt, more harsh, more seductive, more freeing, more exposing, more risky, more romantic, more rude, more honest, more anything, if there hadn't been an audience.

no longer writing in the third person

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

"No, it'll get cold!"
"Put a tut ahh put a-"