Sun, 23 Nov 2025 10:37:17

Worse Lift

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.

She closes the window. I wasn't paying attention anyway, I'm getting cold, and the birds are nowhere to be seen. I go inside.

its good short few pages

much more tactility

send your tumblr

all that is to say

so at the end

autonomy of learning

which magnetises chains of pins

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

hiding from the rain

and the fake qualifier

barren land

division of reality is straying away from it

so i or you can author smaller fragments that get arranged

Garden Post-Dusk, Birds Above, In Another Life

kind of mythopoesis

I've found the girl, or she's found me, and we're smoking a cigarette while we watch the silhouettes of the French Raj and his fireworks bearer down on the bank.

we can only engage in such a way