from a few days ago, 23 lines…

subject: feel like

i am going craaaaazy

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i am pulling out stories to make into booklets
i am not pulling out stories not making booklets
i am sitting under the weight of a very large thick cloud that hangs and drapes and slows me down
while comforting me with its promise warmth and muffled sounds

today is christmas 24
new year in 7
thirty in 12

can i bind paint illustrate animate 120 pages in time?

i miss

trees
open fields
quiet
getting lost
coming back at seven
pushing the weeds back at midnight

in a reiki session last week
i felt a current run from toes to tip of nose

writing makes me feel
i am losing my mind
who came up with an art, a practice of this?

the precipice makes me want to vomit
yet the work is all for this, to arrive here

mierda mierda mierda

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