#2013
every story, especially those promising finally to grant the square hat with tassels, is a load of shit. the god which
Fieldwizards and firetops. Wobblybirds on snowflowers. Chilled milk and chowder for the little prince. Mothercake for mumbled thanks.
we are nearly always a world which almost
being drawn back unlike a bowstring but down and in as water finds the lowest
just start over not so much like anything was particularly
shut my eyes and squeeze my demand, the point of a spear. what will happen.
stupid met crazy decided to have a baby or two... what else you gonna do?
man, it’s hard to come down from impossible hopes seemingly
unspeakable dearth of nutrient the cause of the complaint, lack of the sweet titmilk of human connection,
i keep smiling forgetting to remember to stop myself.
I just felt what I think I’ll feel always, once we’ve finally met, and share this cool space, like an open secr… It felt like all my favorite songs…
let’s put all the stupid things in a pile and call them “love” or “worry” or
the center holds itself still that rockets believably may be seen exploding in all directions from somewhere vaguely
we were all talking, things taking shape as they do, when someone said, be desireless, like that is at all a thing people
first fruits hardly a handful, the garden