Ersatz helium veal enduring, no, besplendoring, the aching sense of raw philosophy. Mother cleans the harmonium, brother slaps dingbat fascists. Cousins while away the basic needs in a humdrum rush of pathos. I don’t know, how to reason with cheese, do the elves like me, etc. I had a “man.” I “had” a man: am I part of history? The slime, the reasons, the elves, the contours, the crumpets are parts of history. He got…his cells in me. I’m in his cells as “history,” and to mark time, I write…on the…walls.

– Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

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