Blink
Thought
Stuck.
Regret
Deseo que hubiera...
Isolation v. solitude
Clickity Clack.
My playhouse is
underneath Our house, & I hear people Telling each other secrets.
Dribble Dribble.
Thoughts are the
Shadows of our feelings-always darker, emptier, simpler.
Swishhhhhh.
All our sadnesses are moments of tension that we ďŹ nd
Paralyzing because we no longer hear our surprised feelings living.
Nope!
Anticipation In drawing, the trace always proceeds in the night: it always escapes the ďŹ eld of vision.
Splash.
Fleas
interest me so much that I let them bite me for hours. They are perfect, ancient, Sanskrit, machines that admit of no appeal.
They do not bite to eat, they bite only to jump; they are the dancers of the celestial sphere, delicate acrobats in the softest and most profound circus; let them gallop on my skin, divulge their emotions, amuse themselves with my blood, but someone should introduce them to me. I want to know them closely, I want to know what to rely on
Drip. Drip. Drip.
Sublime
Mmm. Tasty.
AMP
LIF
IED
WASTE Sometimes
witness
SUBJUNCTIVE absolutely.
MILLIONS although. . .
RECENTLY!
BILLIONS
endlessssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss
TRILLIONS