so i or you can author smaller fragments that get arranged

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

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.

Garden Post-Dusk, Birds Above, In Another Life

IWGD

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.

I wonder if the birds knew I was watching?

It Will Get Lighter

no longer writing in the third person

really i want the internet

After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting

i love to walk around and see things and take photos and go online and look at websites and click on links and take screenshots i love to surf and i love to browse

13, H, grate

I know that if I try to make this entry any more than it is I will ruin it.

Above and behind a window opens and a cigarette hangs out.

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

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