[response to “let go of the narrative.”]

you say let me, I was dropped on the head as a child and show a mark, the house is too much of one thing to sleep in, I cannot be part of the history, I say let us wait as long as possible to put off this decision, dash it all, that is why we are not fucking, you say, wanting to get into my vices, will you make criticism, will you artifact, artifactual, mmm alloy, I say, things are as art, or whatever, wanting to make life revolve around one decision, wanting to know what people are saying when they point at me, you say, (it might be so bad it’s worth burning), I say, well, duh, everyone can tell when their friend is having an off day, not everyone won’t stop until they find out a reason, you say, explain it to me again, why we are not doing it as soon as possible, I say (not of any great importance), you say, will you, I say, some places leave an order on my skin and I’m still not cold enough, you say, there is no warmth it’s only your imagination, my dear, I cannot live left like an eyebrow to demonstrate these matters, it’s no use, I say, but it’s all written, it’s all written here, my dear, I’ll write it myself, you say, who, is it said, knows anything at all about anything, who knows about waffles, I say, the house down formed in forming, constellating, out front with a few sorrys and a little prose


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