a girl prays to muses for mantic truths

Glassed over an’ fixated my gaze can’t traipse after your fine act, can’t blindly pause this obsession, incensed into hysterics from droll mistakes shortstopped by a smartphone. I’m always on standby. You keep me busy. I’ll try to make this worthwhile.

Technology is our lifeline doubling as my supple noose. Pull the lever, I’m falling up, anyhow; I make love with my executioner. He showed me how to die. It was the last thrill of my life.

I befell him multiple times, always a random character build. Singing gold bird box on the mantle, gothic tortoiseshell and porcelain worth a fucking fortune. Somewhere between reliance and reliability like caring for a useful antique —>
                   more & more I’m too close now
            to tolerate being a moment too late


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