pity I have to
prove myself
to be myself.
the Benziger pea
cocks. see them
strut. drink wine. who
can see a butter
fly from the
33rd floor
w/o experiencing
an identity
crisis? he
sketches me. we pic
nic at V. Sattui sans
naked loversoaking.
chill, I’m a star
ting to blech
really love my
job. pity.
