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

After thinking and forgetting and thinking and forgetting

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

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

that is unstable and lets me operate in that discovery mode that i can create within and also produce works from.

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

It Will Get Lighter

somewhere between instagram and chatgpt

13, H, grate

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.

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

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

Rain, starting

it exists in my head in some way that i'm trying to get out i lied on my story a little bit because i'm mostly feeling it and thinking about it. feeling something deeply doesn't necessitate any kind of deep relevance or whatever but the thinking is useful

there's probably something in that, but I don't feel like thinking about it too much yet.

but really the thing should be autonomous

so i or you can author smaller fragments that get arranged

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.