so at the end

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.

Today I felt like starting

Better Lift

Can I see

I'm in a crowded lift and a girl I've never met tells me she thinks she might love me.
The lift won't stop at any floor, and I can't talk in front of all these people.

i know a little bit of lacan which probably influences me in a way i cant articulate

sorry i am texting like a slav

and so on. not wanting the rhyming / clanging

Style

we can only engage in such a way

and the fake qualifier

I Write Goodbye Letter

The slug lives in my bathroom. I only see it in the early hours of the morning, when I'm not quite right.

was it worth it