"I started writing hundred of poems and sending them out. You know poetry doesn't pay anything, it was just a form I needed. Kind of a passionate, pleasurable, selfish, nice form where you can scream a bit. I guess I needed to scream a little bit." C. Bukowski
Tuesday, November 10, 2015
day forty-four : attempting to organize
tomorrow i will have known you for a year. do you mind if i bike over after work? we can pay our respects to existence.
My mother messages me about flight. I take a bathroom break, make coffee. Write to you.
Things will be experienced, learnt. You and/with me continue through the maze.
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