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.

isaac newton

no longer writing in the third person

wow, you are the first stranger to write a textwall to me

Can I see


Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

hiding from the rain

Thu, 06 Nov 2025 21:22:59

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.

Better Lift