the more you write, the better you get, right? well, this is what they say, but do they really know what they’re saying? observe this – she writes nights and days and can’t finish anything, can’t deliver the prose; she fails in verses and falls in between. she is the naked singularity again. it’s time to face it – the inevitable will arrive and leave her wanting more, because this – this! – is definitely not what she had in mind.

no, never this.

but – you said she was not going to fail.

the truest form of truths, the one that escapes you at dawn, is this – always lie. it will save the world. and they will ask – where did you learn all this, when did you have the time, why are you telling us all this; what is in your head or somewhere (where your thoughts take form, abandon their origin)?

what is more, her mom started it, told her it was ok to lie. wrap your mind around this, baby girl. this is what they expect from you at the end of the day. ohgod…

the storybooks, the love of your life, the muse in wait – corner them and twist them until it all looks remotely believable. send them in – the doc’s gone crazy.

heal him.

he is past the point of ithoughtyoumeantit.