A Plagiaristic* Passage
My pen feels like a paintbrush. I don’t feel time when I sleep.* My best friends: people I like, but people I don’t love.* Efficiency frustrates, turn it down. I try to get my friends excited, about not being invited.* I say, blue & white, clouds… sunlight. It’s hard to make a point.* It’s an […]Read more "A Plagiaristic* Passage"