IW can't stop until i'mShen I see that the scars are fading
Ttill they all end up falling down breaking
Lhe way they always seem to be escaping
Mately I've been relating to bugs
Ty arms sting and I avoid hugs
Mo forget it I turned to violence
y perfect memory and the silence
This is what I mean when I yearn for contemporary fiction that's unreservedly, capital-W Weird. So many anthology publishers and yet many of them never reach this level of purity.
We must break free from ingrained habits of chasing efficiency, prioritizing consumption and flaunting the ego, and learn to uphold mindfulness and abide in the present moment — in every action, from walking and eating to tidying our living space.