this is my brain on cortisol addiction: this is my brain atthis fucking job -- I'm kidding, of course; here it is poetryand we transcend! the turn towards -- writing aboutother people, the fiction writer as creep rather than solipsist; I have failed, but who else will creep out myinfected heart-box, my gutted-out self-hatred: envyat… Continue reading poem: postmortem
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i could be bound in a nutshell and count it as infinite space if not for these bad dreams
the last pavilion 