Contemporary Autobiography

2025.10.06

These days i wake up in semicontempeorary gradients, in leather encasing, in red velvet doors, beckoning. I am unlearning the origins of life, through photography, through yogurt, through discovery. The schedule is extremely strict. I told you I am seeking Wendys or divinity. Motorized leafblower scraping those vanilla piranhas off the floor.

These days I tell myself i'm lobbyworthy, I'm a sacriment of reconciliation forgoing any translucent material. I stopped oversharing in devils darkrooms, building green bottle galley houses like a sandwich shop employee. I am forgoing that figurative cellulite, catching colds and smashing bugs and gluing glass hearts. That gross margin is excellent but I do not care.

These days I fill red balloons and suck the helium right back out. Call it enjembment, filtered into wads of cash and dryer lint. Hear the call of the ferry by the cloud-shaped clocktower. Wednesdays I take fifteen cold almond milk showers in a row, to cleanse that graphite under my fingernails. Pens run out twice as fast and great green tea screams and cries before increasing a single degree Farenheit.