Father came to my room and asked if he could lie down on my floor for ten minutes. Presumably he is relaxing. He has a rough life. I think he does a lot of it to himself, but still. He probably isn’t aware of it, either. Maybe he just tries too hard to make everyone […]
I really love writing, though. I really do. But anyway. The poetry collective seems all but kaputsky to me, unless I have been experiencing schizoaffective time dilation again, wherein: a day is long and a week is an eternity and anything more than that is enough time for any project to simply die. I really […]
He raised me And all he can say now is, “Get a job”? Guess how he raised me. He uttered a single word. And I don’t know what that word is.