(no subject)
I sat with a phonebook balanced on my head, staring into prismacolor madness on the adjacent wall. The pictures keep amassing, the sketches greying, the light condensing and refracting upon the floor. singular celled organisms blatantly extracting your soul as you sit in a glorified state of uncleanliness. if my words were physically structured to be solid, i'd tie them in a knot around my bedpost and wait for them to fray and loosen. when my family life is so placid, a questionable comparison of my mother to a duck enters my head. I cut out pieces of the pictures and remade a visage of your life as a shipwreck. Complete with a lego pirate captain by your side.