holy shit i love you
bumpy and red like a teenager’s face after crying. weathered and dry like a smoker woman in the winter. honest and brutal like an alcoholic man. majestic yet nonchalant like a baby asleep. cool and drafty at night like my room: if you leave the fan on you never have to dust it. hot and bleak like a black street in the summer in bare feet.
there would have to be some kind of pattern, an intangible kind, and we would see it in different ways. and the writers would feel it under their skin and write in patterns and the artists would feel it behind closed eyelids like braille and create art in patterns and musicians will feel it in their chest like hypnosis and create music with patterns and dancers will dance in patterns and thinkers will think in patterns. WE PATTERN THAT IS WHAT HUMANS DO, we would *pattern* ourselves and our lives off of what we know. THERE ALWAYS HAVE TO BE PATTERNS *breathes heavily* pattern
maybe that wouldn’t be so bad, but how would we learn, would we all learn simultaneously? just because we would all be of the same intelligence doesn’t mean we’d all be intelligent it just means we’re all at the same level. who would we learn from? there would be no higher standard or reason to get educated, that is disturbing, someone talk about this with me i want to talk
the more i think about it, the more familiar it seems, i think that is maybe my writing process
SOMEONE SEND ME A MESSAGE THAT IS DISTURBING AND THOUGHT PROVOKING
a little 10:30 pinot noir if ya feel me
I love YOU. i had a pretty nice flute lesson and played with a cat named punky for 12 minutes so those are nice things ^~^ plus i wore a shirt that says “A Swan On The Cadillac” and i dunno what it means but i like it a lot !!