i've been doing something different with the starts and stops. the rhythms of the way things fall out of my head. it's new and not that pleasing. which makes me happy and warm. these full glugs of cheap wine late after a bottle of scotch on a sunday morning. thick and almost sick. i'm not doing it here. that's just some kind of weak imagery that, like most things in my life, i should totally be ashamed of.


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