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*
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