Oh! it’s gross out here.
May 4, 2014 § Leave a comment
Already written+dreamed, the times are rushing through me, as I sleep x as I bathe x as I eat x as I tend, but I cannot transfer those times, from daze inducing in my mind, to reality. [(On paper is a jumble I cannot comprehend.) I should not feel so troubled over it.] It is not the same world outside of my head^; it must be the light, the smoke in the air, the simplicity, altering my beauties, changing their minds-It must be something. They are bored, out here, I imagine, because all of what I write, is shit^, once outside of my head.
They grieve, misplaced/It is death out here.