theres a man in my room who calls my name. my name. please leave me alone, i want to say. he doesn’t leave, and i get dressed, and we go out to dinner. he takes me home, and i dont feel the bile in my mouth, and he says he’ll be back next week.

cereal or a bullet for breakfast. . .

food is hard to chew when your teeth are caught in the muzzle of a gun.

If anyone could look into my head See or feel the dread that has captured Me or see within this sad, unhappy brain They would only turn away Turn away.

<~~~ @lsyuexsnsvsge.bsky.social

I’m asexual :(

why, scared i’d be able to smell the viagra?

blue pill. @lsyuexsnsvsge.bsky.social

I can’t help the rush. He’s going to drag me out again, arm around my back or fingers in my hair, pulling me away from story after story of miserable citizens living with Alzheimer’s or cancer. I’m hooked, getting off on these folks crying faces, again and again, telling their lives like we could

so far as feelings were concerned, there was no discrepancy between the very finest feeling in this world and the very worst; that their effect was the same; that no visible difference existed between murderous intent and feelings of deep compassion.

Let's get this over with -- so I can kill you again.

dont misbehave or else you’ll get subjected to; making out with knife with reflection of someone else. is that paul allen?

i think i have loser-nouns.

i think i’ll get back to him on that pronoun thing.

i am jacks wasted life.

theres a man in my head who calls me a loser alter ego

. . . first person.

i have a new plan : to go mad

I simply am not there.

what the hell is a pronoun.

you think I‘m dumb—— you think all models are dumb, don‘t you.ᐣ

does big brother exist.ᐣ ╱ of course he exists ╱ does he exist like you or me.ᐣ ╱ you do not exist.

he really thinks im going to eat all that

and the snapper filet with fennel, tomato and basil vinaigrette for the main course. dessert will be the creme caramel with passion fruit.

@jacksninthrule.bsky.social at dorsia, for the appetiser, you'll order the whipped cod roe with padrón peppers and lemon oil. the duck rillette with fig and agro dolce for the entree.

I am this great, unstable mass of blood and foam, and no emotion that's worth having could call my heart its home.

How did I get here. Theres club music piercing my ears, the ground thumping in rhythmless tandem as patrons jump wildly. God has no place here, in these walls, in this bathroom. I can feel eyes—not Gods—beating down on me. Theres a hand on my neck, and I think smell urinal cakes.