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.

plato

The bird dives back into the tree. It shakes, some leaves fall.

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.

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

Lift Analysis

i want to do that too

not so on: yvf(wthw)

After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting

is this you as well

1

I am below everything.

yeah

no i haven't really read anything

send your tumblr

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.

this is possible in mazelike research sprints on the internet