There’s no perfect time, except maybe before it’s too late. Alarm blaring, I’m tangled, sweaty. I’m a comfortable sleeper. It’s dawn brings the nightmares. I get up in the morning because I remember the alternatives being worse. I rise and pour coffee as a compromise. (I only make it myself when asked – sorry.) These days are the worst of both worlds - I am isolated and lonely and feeling watched in the most frightening ways. Do you know what is being built here? It should frighten you too, nobody passes under the surveillance lights. Do you know yet what is being built here? It should frighten you too, third time’s the charm, tissue paper lungs. Yes, my body and brain are an inconvenience most days. Let the positivity bloggers gasp, I roll my eyes and repeat until I almost believe it: the facts don’t make me unworthy of love, care. What am I against the churning of the world? I work on myself, I take care of my own – it’s not enough. They work on themselves, they take care of their own – it’s not enough. “It should be enough to just survive in times like these,” she says. “It’s not fair that it doesn’t feel that way.” Do you know yet what is being built here? I am the creator and the creation I am the artist and the work My greatest design, perpetually unfinished Do you know yet
do you know yet what is being built here
do you know yet what is being built here
There’s no perfect time, except maybe before it’s too late. Alarm blaring, I’m tangled, sweaty. I’m a comfortable sleeper. It’s dawn brings the nightmares. I get up in the morning because I remember the alternatives being worse. I rise and pour coffee as a compromise. (I only make it myself when asked – sorry.) These days are the worst of both worlds - I am isolated and lonely and feeling watched in the most frightening ways. Do you know what is being built here? It should frighten you too, nobody passes under the surveillance lights. Do you know yet what is being built here? It should frighten you too, third time’s the charm, tissue paper lungs. Yes, my body and brain are an inconvenience most days. Let the positivity bloggers gasp, I roll my eyes and repeat until I almost believe it: the facts don’t make me unworthy of love, care. What am I against the churning of the world? I work on myself, I take care of my own – it’s not enough. They work on themselves, they take care of their own – it’s not enough. “It should be enough to just survive in times like these,” she says. “It’s not fair that it doesn’t feel that way.” Do you know yet what is being built here? I am the creator and the creation I am the artist and the work My greatest design, perpetually unfinished Do you know yet