Hi I printed my two ebooks into hand sewn chapbooks. Both ebooks are available for free on my wordpress. if you would like me to send you a chapbook, i am selling them for $3 each or $5 for both. postage fees are included in that price, wowww. you can help me make back the money i spent on 40s and bolt bus tickets to new york.
or if you wanna do a swap we can do that too, i like that idea.
or if you just wanna pay like $1 or nothing that works also.
you can paypal me at email@example.com and send me your address, ok thanks ^_^
my mother texts me to say it is snowing and i close the text message and don’t look outside
i fold a paper crane out of a small square of blue paper with my eyes closed and put it in a jar with other paper cranes of different colors
there is some money in the jar too
my friend sends me an email and i read it and cry a little and decide to wait till tomorrow to reply
am i in proximity to someone who is also sitting in bed listening to the weakerthans, and if so, how do i find them?
i should wash this sweater, just the sleeves, bits of my face are in it
some people cut themselves to have control over something; i just clean my room
originally posted right here.
i am feeling a way that would have seemed incomprehensible not that long ago, dang
it’s weird tbh
i feel like i can imagine feeling this way for a long time
i am tired
i am tired
i am OK
ok ok ok
i only want to communicate with you in japanese emoticons
♡o｡.(✿ฺ｡ ✿ฺ) ヽ(●-`Д´-)ノ
(.=^・ェ・^=) ☆*:.｡. o(≧▽≦)o .｡.:*☆
(ღ˘⌣˘ღ) ♫･*:.｡. .｡.:*･ （*＾3＾）/～☆
here is a yawn, i am literally yawning for you
I wrote a poem called ‘Hideaway Camp’ and it is in the new issue of Microscenes, edited by Lee Costello.
hi, you can read it here.
I wrote a short story titled ‘Black Mold’ that was published in Shabby Doll House Issue 7. Lucy K. Shaw provided the artwork for my story.
Lucy K. Shaw is the editor of SDH.
Lucy K. Shaw is wonderful.
Lucy K. Shaw is lovely.
Lucy K. Shaw is incomparable.
5 haiku for people I loved before the end of the world.
We loved, then dissolved.
It took us a decade, but
we’re right back to us.
You tell everyone
I was the one who killed us.
Please leave me alone.
I hope you’re happy.
I’m still thinking about you.
It’s funny, really.
I wish Chicago
was not twelve hours away.
We could have been great.
I still feel eighteen
when I fall asleep with you.
We should stay like this.
I wrote this poem before the apocalypse that never came (i’m here, i’m still here). beach sloth reviewed it, which you can read here.