I need the ghosts.
I’ve got to get
to the ghosts now.
A stomach churning spaghetti
over a postcard.
From the perspective of the
stomach.
Get a lens on this. I
potentially
have two hours
to write it all down.
Packing away
the limbo I’m in.
I’ve been in.
Partitioned funk. I
look better
at the movies than I do on a
dancefloor.
The shame of. The
shame of.
I need
to be there in person.
Manic
toxicity & all.
Are you up to speed?
In
general?
Let’s read a few
books.
