i think there’s something about it being strung out and straight on so you can’t catch your breath reading until you gasp and choke for air trying to get on to one more word and then once you think you can’t go no more then one more still because it’s that good and will cease to all be the same run-on if you stop to breathe (i’d like to write a piece one day that runs on so good i’ll get lost and read it run on like this and overcome even my instinct to breathe and lay there on my deathbed reading it right to the end)

everything collided so perfectly in that time after which now it is only worthwhile looking back longing with less to be gotten from the present it seems compared to thinking back in my imagination on that past good time which may be me getting older and the best behind me so i wonder if this in between turning twenty five is the time to start looking back or if there is still more to look forward to

I published this in the moment I wish I would have because I don’t think art happens over time more editing overthinking less of what was once natural coming out as art in the first place because that is what you thought or felt and that is the art right there as soon as it comes out like a live performance and anything after that is manufactured