the nausea comes over me still.
when i’m leaning over the sink. as i sit down in my room typing nonsense. and drawing pictures of nothing, and nobody. it washes over me, threatening to come spewing out. but it doesn’t. and i keep doing what i’m doing. it comes out my fingers, it comes out my throat. it spreads like a virus into my computer, smears like mucous onto the pages of tiny notebooks. it finds its way around, here and there. everywhere ![]() i’m really excited about this new project. trying to learn about where i come from; stuff you can’t find in books. things other people may not have related yet. maybe these are secret thoughts nobody has the guts to think anymore. things like, oh i don’t know. you know. yadda yadda You must be logged in to leave a comment.
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I haven't submitted any photos. I guess I don't want free money.
short shorts
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