eigener
running out of paper scrawl on sugar instead move the habits around in a cup of tea no one here believes so long as i can hold off understanding at least for a little while longer cannot engage when i am thrown to the wayside as unintelligible store up a little more time to self increase productivity self wrought iron fly on the wall layabout nothing compiling stories on what one ought not to understand ought not to hear
i clean the walls
the images are not as forthcoming as the thoughts the light is all wrong got to remedying that as soon as possible and no another arrangement no one can stay still for long around here the transience is permeating the skin catching the viewers gaze only for a moment how much attention could one possibly hope to entertain in this over sensitised monotony modern world twelve months on an editing process pouring over the remains of a bleeding heart
the boy's an artist