a project of skill-less and dead-author labor turned dead-text turned dead-reader, love affair with space, some cloud to influx information without regard for human eyes. &poetry
Friday, November 10, 2017
to point to oneself and loudly proclaim, "this is what self-effacing looks like." fb
Likening these after-midnight whatevers (some emptied, but belonging) 
when I can be pregnant, delete, eat my own twin, delete, ask 
self-satisfying questions, delete, *shaking the ritual. fist in the air*
 cursing future give-ins, because I want it now, delete. ~I want the 
world. I want the whole world, it's my bar of chocolate, give it to me 
now~ ...until then, uberEats driver? Also, I'd never break out into song
 irl, delete. Also, I don't need your tips, delete. I mean uE is better
 than office work...waiting for 2018? maybe? *great carpentry 
skills--okay, mediocre, but very strong-bodied--okay, strong-willed 
(both)...XXX?$$$?* We just readied, seeking, wanting value in brain 
power...or switch-play...same thing (without having to write a single 
comprehensible sentence). Why is 2017 going so slow on me? Also, sublet 
me your P place for 2 weeks, for slightly cheaper than airbnb, thanks. 
Just kidding, I don't need anything from you. DELETE. *20 minute, "Hi". 
then bye*
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment