I am below everything.

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

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


Their voices are saying they haven't and shouldn't fuck but want to so bad, or have fucked and can't again but want to so bad, or something like that. Would this be easier if they were birds? Incel kind of question... I'm not following the conversation, but I'm still listening. He's talking in this slightly begging way. It's a way of talking that asks for pity, like he's already tried appealing to every other one of her sensibilities. Incel kind of observation... Maybe he just talks like that, in some upspeak derivative. Haha unless?

Thu, 06 Nov 2025 23:18:46

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

Imprint, memory, impact, representation, impression


It Will Get Lighter

and so on. not wanting the rhyming / clanging

2 (actually index). two is company

Rain, starting

I Write Goodbye Letter

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

Thu, 04 Dec 2025 11:31:03

in a post. I want to be remembered

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

Like the tide, it comes in and it washes over the beach. It's beautiful. But like the tide it goes out, sometimes it goes out further than it ever has, it recedes back across the beach and further out beyond the horizon. The bare seabed opens up in front of you and all you can do is look at it.


December 2025

It Will Get Lighter

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.

...

your feed looks like my tumblr

this will be about a slug

abrar?

One of the birds shoots out of 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.