Thu, 04 Dec 2025 11:31:03

It Will Get Lighter

Windrush Art Kid Oligarch

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.

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.

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

a heavy, heavy rain. a clear day.

I created this site

.

After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting

Rain, starting

so the method has to be autonomous

fw

much more tactility

idk

lol yea

something for the future. something to look at when this is more. I've been thinking about... whatever

that looks like my instagram account

to work in time to get to the timeless, perfection thru chaos

Wed, 11 Nov 2025 21:12:41

lol

Worse Lift

okay im going very rogue and very inarticulate

its good

plato

Style

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.